


Crush II: Ostinato

by MissMelysse



Series: CrushVerse [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Het, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 99,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMelysse/pseuds/MissMelysse
Summary: The second novel-length part of the CRUSHverse. (Follows HELLO FROM EARTH...) Data/Zoe continues. What was once only friendship morphs into SO much more. NOTE: Strong T-rating overall, but some chapters are M-rated, and are marked accordingly. As with all of the CRUSHverse, this is a close-canon AU, but it's still an AU.





	1. Anvil

**Author's Note:**

> Ostinato is a specific type of crescendo involving a repeating pattern (it can also mean 'stubborn' or 'persistent'),

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe runs into an old acquaintance on Starbase 12.

**Stardate 44669.52**

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 09:00 hours local time)**

**Starbase Twelve**

Airports. Spaceports. Starbase transit lounges. It didn't matter what they were called, there were certain universal truths that applied to all of them, and when you were moving through one at the end of what was, for most of the worlds in the same sector as Earth, the last few days before the beginning of a new school year, there were a lot of families with kids returning from vacations, and a lot of students traveling on their own.

With my cello worn back-pack style (for easier transport) and my single rolling suitcase (anti-grav wasn't allowed in customs) I could have been any of the latter. Even my clothes: a t-shirt and jeans, vintage combat boots, and a sweatshirt tied around my waist, were almost a kind of uniform, the sorts of things worn by young humanoids for centuries. The colors might change, and the languages represented on the t-shirt slogans might be nearly innumerable, but the basic form was classic.

The difference was that instead of heading back to Earth or Centaurus, Vulcan or Corsica, or even Risa (home of the champion inter-collegiate beach volleyball team since 2359) _I_ was headed back to school on a starship, and not just _any_ starship, either: Starfleet's flagship, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.

I was also traveling alone, as my mother and my once and future literature teacher were spending an extra week on Earth, after a week of something that was closer to a family vacation than anything I'd previously experienced. Not that I minded. My mother was greatly deserving of some personal time, and Ed, the teacher in question, was a great guy. I wasn't staking actual money on it, or anything, but I was betting there would be a proposal before the week was out.

"Next!" The voice of the transit officer in front of me roused me from my musing about Mom and Ed, and I stepped forward and presented my ID chit. "Name and destination?"

"Zoe Harris. I'm meeting the _Enterprise_ ," I said.

The blue-skinned, white-haired officer looked me over, his antennae bobbing slightly with the movements of his head. "You're a bit young to be Starfleet," he said.

I grinned. "A bit," I agreed. "My mother's in the science division there. Lt. Commander Emily Harris." She and my father had been divorced for almost a year, now, but she'd kept his last name. She was used to it, she'd explained. And changing records was a hassle.

"I have your records here," I was told. "Harris, Zoe. Bound for _Enterprise,_ as you said. Here's your temporary comm-badge; it will give you access to station facilities and help them track you if you don't want to stay on the Starfleet deck. The ship's not due to arrive for several hours, but you're flagged as VIP status so I'm going to assign a room to you. Feel free to leave your belongings there while you roam around the station. There will be an announcement when _Enterprise_ docks, but a transit officer will find you, even so. You're sixteen, which means we don't need to assign a companion unless you ask for one."

"I'm good," I said, feeling like a seasoned traveler. In a sense, I was, having been on tour with my father for a good chunk of my childhood, but those had always been commercial transports, and some minion had handled all the paperwork. "But thank you."

There was a scuffle a couple of aisles over, where people were standing with picket signs – digital displays on meter-long handles – reading _Keep Earth Human_ and _Humans First_. They were chanting, as well, and waving the signs at anyone who wasn't obviously human.

"Charming people," I snarked. "They know they're at arrivals, right?"

Eyes and antenna turned in the direction of the noise, and then refocused on me. "You'd think they'd have figured it out," he said. "They're here almost every week. Mostly they're just annoying, but we've gotten a couple of bomb threats." His hand rose to clamp over his mouth in embarrassment. "Oops, sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Listen, I'm sure you'll be fine." He scanned my retina and fingerprints and pressed a few keys on his console. "Welcome to Starbase Twelve, Ms. Harris. Enjoy your stay."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44669.78**

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 11:17 hours, local time)**

The best thing about Starbase Twelve, I decided, was that there was a branch of my favorite café there. I was sitting at a window table at Red Sands, watching the people on the Starbase promenade and nursing my second café mocha of the morning, when a familiar voice interrupted me.

"Ah, Zoe. I suspected I would find you here."

I looked up into the yellow eyes and pale gold face I'd missed seeing all summer. "Where there's coffee…" I began, teasingly, but I trailed off, when I noticed the smirk on this man's face. "Oh," I said, trying to sound unperturbed, "Lore."

The facial tic he still hadn't completely eradicated confirmed my assessment. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, dropping into the other chair at my table before I could even answer. "Actually, it doesn't matter if you mind or not. So, little girl, happy to see me?"

"Thrilled," I snarked at him. "Ecstatic, even." We both knew I was only being sarcastic to cover my fear. "Shouldn't you be stalking women your own age instead of teenagers?"

He managed a snort. "If you allow for all the years I spent packed away in pieces, I'm closer to your age than you might think," he said. "Certainly closer than my dear brother. He's, what, fifteen years your senior?"

"Thirteen," I corrected, though I was pretty sure he'd known the real number all along. "Not that it matters, since we don't have a relationship beyond friendship."

"But you want one."

"This again?" I asked. "Really? Brain like yours, and you have nothing better to do than worry about who may or may not be crushing on your brother? Don't you have puppies to kick or worlds to conquer or something?"

"Or something," he allowed, but his smirk had only gotten bigger. "Look, little girl, whatever you claim your relationship with my brother is, you _matter_ to him, and therefore you are extremely useful to me. Finish your drink, and let's take a little walk."

"You send me 'anonymous' notes, follow me around San Francisco, show up at my concerts, and now you want me to go on a walk with you? Are you sure your programming isn't glitching?"

"Oh, you are an amusing child," he said, the delighted smile he wore only making him seem creepier. He leaned across the table, so that anyone watching us would think we were having a romantic _tête-à-tête_ instead of… whatever this was. "I need you to carry a message to my brother."

"Do I _look_ like a carrier pigeon?" I asked, using irritation to mask the terror running through me. Could he see me shaking?

"Carrier pigeon?" his eyes flickered back and forth in much the same fashion I was used to seeing in Data. I didn't point out that his brother's searches never took as long. "Oh, very good," he commented. "No, you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it."

"You're right," I agreed. "Because I'm _not._ I'm just a student heading back to school. And you know if Starfleet finds you here…"

"The _Enterprise_ is still hours away, and even if you signaled right now it would take transit officers seventeen minutes to get here…just long enough for you and I to have a little one-on-one time." He licked his lips suggestively. "You know you want to."

I stared directly into his yellow eyes. Nine months ago, I'd mistaken him – Lore – for his brother, my friend and tutor, Lt. Commander Data, and followed him into an unsavory section of a different Starbase. He'd ended our first encounter by kissing me and then knocking me out, leaving me with a new awareness of his brother in the process.

I still dreamed about that kiss from time to time.

Half the time, it was Data kissing me.

The other half the time, those dreams were nightmares.

"I know I _don't_ ," I said. "I also know that I wouldn't be responsible for whatever sick and twisted plan you've got up your stolen sleeve." I looked him up and down as I said it, taking in the fact that the uniform he was wearing was now out of date – the collar was all wrong, and the design of the sleeves had changed.

"Big talk from a little girl. Is false bravado your specialty?" He reached across the table and captured my hand, holding it with just enough pressure to restrain, while still making it very clear that if I made a wrong move he could easily crush every bone. His other hand reached for my chin, cupping it delicately, and when he spoke, his voice was a dark whisper in my ear. "Don't bother screaming, Zoe. If anyone sees us, they'll think we're engaged in something far more…intimate…then a mere conversation."

"I won't," I said. I actually had no intention of screaming, partly because I knew it wouldn't help, and partly because, stupid or not, I was curious about what he had planned.

"You have a room assigned. Let's take a little stroll to it."

"Okay." I knew it was a stupid move, but I also knew he wasn't going to rape me. It wasn't his style. He had something else in mind.

He kept hold of my hand as we stood up, though he let go long enough to wrap his arm firmly around my waist, instead, and we left the café, taking the lift to the hotel lobby, and then taking the hotel's lift to my room. When the door had closed behind us he pushed me onto the bed, and straddled me, bending his head close to mine.

His breath was hot and reeked of something like motor oil and battery acid, two things I was familiar with thanks to a life that involved boys with speedboats and souped-up fliers. "Seriously, have you been chugging flitter fuel?" I asked him, trying to roll out from under him, and failing.

"Silicone-based lubricant and generic nutritional supplement, if you must know. Plus fish oil. Helps the memory." He laughed, obviously meaning the last part as a joke. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing mine as he spoke. "Want a taste?"

I shuddered. "Lips that drink Sili-Coat lube are _not_ touching mine. You want me to deliver a message, fine, I'll be your courier, but I don't see why you're fixated on me. I'm just a student who happens to know your brother."

"You know my brother…intimately…."

"Hardly," I snorted.

"'Hardly,'" he mimicked. "Is it? Are you sure?" He cocked his head slightly, then started speaking in my voice. "'Technically, Data, _our_ relationship is intimate. It's just not…it's just not sexual.' Need I go on?"

"How did you know about that conversation?"

"Ah-ah-ah. That's for me to know…and my brother to go crazy trying to figure out. Now do you want to deliver my message, or do you want me to start blowing up sectors of this 'base?"

"Do I _want_ to? No."

"But you will."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll do it. It's not like you're giving me much choice. What's the message?"

"You don't honestly think I'm going to just _tell_ you?"

Actually, I had. "Well…"

But he moved, then, using his right hand to span my throat, holding me immobile, while his left reached for something he'd hidden somewhere in his ill-fitting uniform. It looked a little like a small phaser blaster. "Stay very still," he hissed at me, "and this won't hurt a bit." He forced my mouth open with the muzzle of the not-a-blaster, pressed it against my tongue, and pressed the trigger. Almost immediately, he released my neck and replaced his hand on my shoulder. I still couldn't move, but at least he wasn't almost choking me anymore.

White-hot pain flooded through my mouth, and then receded, leaving me dazed and confused. "Wha' wazzat? Wha' di'you do?" I asked, though I'm not sure the words were discernible with my dry mouth and thick tongue. Something hard and metallic moved in my mouth, and I tasted blood.

"Data-solid in a tongue stud," he said, smirking. "Tell your parents it was an impulsive decision, when they ask you. And make sure my brother helps you remove it. That part's crucial, actually. And when he does, you remind him of what I said before. I had the first taste." He kept me pinned and spoke the next words against my mouth. "And the second."

As he 'favored' me with an acidic kiss, I remembered the conversation I'd had with Data in sickbay, back in February. Summoning all my courage, I raised my arms to grip at him, bracing against him as I lifted my leg and thrust my foot at his crotch with all the strength I could muster.

Thank god for all the hills, and all the walking I'd done in San Francisco that summer. And thank god for the fact that fashion-colored combat boots were a trend I'd actually embraced that year.

I could have lived without ever hearing the android version of a scream, though. I don't know if Lore was merely in shock or if he actually felt pain, but he released me and ran out of the room before I had entirely realized he was gone.

I went to the door and opened it to scan the corridor, but it was empty, so I let it _swoosh_ shut, and locked myself in. Then I went to use the restroom, and to wash my face and hands. That accomplished, I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror, sticking out my tongue to see my new…accessory. The stud itself looked kind of cool, even if the reason for its existence was appalling.

I was shaking by then. I knew I should call security, but something told me it would be a bad move. Or maybe I just wasn't thinking straight. I picked up my padd to send a message to Data on the _Enterprise_ , but just as I was doing so, the dual tones of an incoming message and something arriving in the replicator slot distracted me.

The message was from Lore. _"Little Pigeon, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that if you warn anyone the results will be very, very bad. I've had a drink and some after-care instructions delivered to your room. Drink the entire glass, and don't worry…I wouldn't go through the trouble of piercing your tongue just to poison you right after. Oh, and give Data my love. I'm doing all this for him, you know."_

I turned the device off and went to the replicator to retrieve the drink, which turned out to be a mild anesthetic. Drinking it made the throbbing pain go away, and calmed my nerves a little as well. I picked up my padd again, this time just sending a note to Data telling him where to find me, and then I stripped the bedspread off the bed, removed my boots, and curled up on top of the blanket.

The explosion came about ten minutes later, and lit up the area immediately beyond the window – the blinds hadn't been closed. From the bed, I could see bits of shuttlecraft and ships drifting outside the Starbase. A few minutes later, a second explosion rocked the entire base, lights flickered off and then back on, and emergency klaxons activated.

As I listened to the disembodied voice on the PA system telling Starbase personnel to report to duty stations, emergency services personnel to go to specific locations, Starfleet personnel to check in, and everyone else to stay either in their assigned hotel room or transit lounge, I sent a prayer to the universe that no one had been killed or seriously injured, that the _Enterprise_ would arrive sooner rather than later, and that my mother wouldn't hear anything until I was safe.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.10**

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time)**

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because when I woke up everything was quiet, and the in-room comm-system informed me that nearly twelve hours had gone by. Also? The _Enterprise_ was visible from the window, and I'd never felt so reassured by the sight of a starship.

My tongue was throbbing again, and I definitely wasn't thinking clearly, because I sat on the bed staring at the great ship outside for several minutes before it occurred to me that I should contact someone.

I looked around for my padd, but before I could activate it, or use the comm-system on the desk, there was a signal at the door, followed by my temporary comm-badge crackling to life. _"Zoe Harris, this is Data. I am outside your assigned quarters. Are you alright?"_

I tapped the badge. "I'm here, and I'm fine," I said, slurring the words a little because my tongue was swollen. "Mostly." The computer didn't respond to my order to unlock the door. "But I can't get the door open," I said.

 _"Starbase systems were damaged,"_ he informed me. _"I will open it manually. Stand away from the door, please."_

"Okay." I stepped back from the door, watching as the edge of it bowed, and then marveling as a white-gold hand punched through, and then gripped it, and forced it to slide open. "Data!" I couldn't have stopped myself from running to him if I'd tried. I crashed into him, wrapping him in a fierce hug.

His arms came around me in the way that had become almost familiar, which didn't surprise me. What _did_ startle me was that he let go of me with one arm after a few moments, and stroked my hair. It was the briefest of touches, but it was enough to make me draw back and look up into his eyes – eyes that were at once just like and _nothing like_ his brother's.

Tears threatened but I forced myself to smile and admit: "Oh, Data, I missed you _so_ much."

Then I fainted.


	2. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her mother off the ship, it's Data to the rescue. Sort of.

**Stardate 44671.10**

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time)**

**Starbase Twelve**

_Tears threatened but I forced myself to smile and admit: "Oh, Data, I missed you so much."_

_Then I fainted._

I came back to awareness just long enough to realize that Data had gathered me into his arms, and requested immediate beam-out. It was my second trip through a transporter, and just like the first, I missed it.

I woke up a second time to dim light and the sensation that I was safe and comfortable. Disoriented, I felt a hypo being pressed against my arm, and Dr. Crusher's voice telling me to rest.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.54**

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 02:44 hours, ship's time)**

**_U.S.S. Enterprise_ **

I woke up – _again_ \- some time later, to the sound of purring, and the feeling of my hair being pulled. I reached out, and made contact with fur. Cautiously, I opened my eyes, only to find an orange and white cat, previously known to me only in video recordings, sitting on the pillow – pillow? – next to my head, playing with my hair.

Abruptly, I realized I was no longer in the hotel room. Nor was I in my own room on the _Enterprise,_ or in sickbay. I sat up in what was a surprisingly comfortable bed, and looked around. Realization came in a burst of embarrassment. I'd been in this room before, but only to walk through to the bathroom during a lesson that ran long, or that one time when Data was… I let my thoughts trail off.

I was in Data's bed. With Data's cat.

I assessed further.

I was fully dressed, except for my boots (which I hadn't been wearing when my rescuer had broken through the hotel room door) in _Data's bed_.

This wasn't going to be awkward at _all_.

A tug on my hair told me that Spot was still playing with it. "Heyyy, that's attached," I said softly, extricating her claws. She moved to sit next to me, and for a moment, watching her claws flexing, I thought she was going to take a swipe at me. Instead she butted my hand with her head in the universal signal for _pet me, now, feeble human._

I complied.

I should have known that Data would hear movement, because his silhouette appeared in the partly-opened door. "Zoe," he said softly. "Are you awake?"

"Awake, embarrassed, in pain, hungry, and really confused. Also, I'm apparently a living source of macramé yarn for your cat."

"There was no indication that you were injured when Dr. Crusher scanned you," he said. "Are you able to join me in the main room? If so, I will ensure that the third and fourth conditions are alleviated, and endeavor to help you eradicate the fifth."

"You're not going to address the embarrassment part?" I asked, teasing gently.

"If you are embarrassed because you…collapsed…" he said, "then you should know that you were exhibiting symptoms of shock and low blood sugar. The doctor gave you a nutritional supplement and a mild sedative before leaving you here, in my care."

"That's…part of it…" I admitted. "Why am I not in sickbay?"

"The _Enterprise_ is helping to treat those who were injured in the explosions on the starbase," he explained. "Since you did not appear to be emergent, and since your mother is on leave, Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher suggested that keeping you here would be preferable to leaving you alone."

"If I were more awake, or less in pain, I would point out the obvious flaw in that decision," I said, and honestly, snarking at him made me feel a little more normal. "If you have my padd somewhere, there should be a document detailing aftercare for a tongue piercing. That's what hurts. Also, if I'm 'in your care' for the night, I'd really like to change to something I haven't been wearing for a gazillion years."

He refrained from correcting my time estimate. "Your belongings are in the main room. I will read the document in question," he said, "and have a solution waiting for you when you have changed."

"Thanks," I said. "Um…should I go get my suitcase, or…?"

"I will bring it." He went to do that then returned, instructing the computer to raise the level of the lights in the room. "I will need the password for your padd," he said."

I gave it to him, and then bent to open my suitcase. Just as the door closed, I remembered where those aftercare instructions had come from. Well, I was going to have to tell him sooner or later. I used the bathroom, washed my hands and face, and changed into a tank top and sweat pants. Then I pulled out the gifts I'd brought for Data and Spot and went to the main part of the room.

True to his word, Data had read the notes on aftercare. A shot-glass of a thick liquid that I recognized as the same painkiller Lore had replicated was waiting next to a glass of ice water on his dining table, at the place I'd occupied whenever I was doing coursework in music theory, or shared a meal before or after a lesson. Data was sitting in the chair opposite, and he gestured for me to join him.

"Drink the painkiller first," he said, his voice soft and serious. "The ice water is to sip during our meal."

I took my seat, putting both packages on the table, and chugged the smaller of the two drinks, feeling the throbbing pain in my mouth recede almost instantly. "Better," I said. "Thank you."

A ding from the replicator signaled that our meal was ready, and Data went to retrieve two spinach and mushroom omelets. "The aftercare instructions recommended soft foods, at first. You will need to rinse your mouth out immediately following."

I nodded. "I'll do that," I said. "Thank you."

We didn't talk much during breakfast? Dinner? Whatever. Partly this was because I was so hungry, I couldn't have managed a conversation if I wanted to. Partly it was because we both knew what the only possible subject would be.

When my plate was cleaned, and I'd finished sipping the glass of ice water, I excused myself to brush my teeth, and rinse my mouth. I didn't have mouthwash with me, so I used his – it was another 'fleet issue product, but it worked – assuming he wouldn't object. I did have a moment of embarrassment at the implied intimacy of sharing hygiene products, but…on a scale of zero to a thousand, I figured generic mouthwash was about a level two.

I padded back out to the living area, and tucked myself into my corner of his couch. "You made tea?"

"Tea and confidences are our ritual," he reminded me gently. "And I did promise to share tea with you upon your return." He dislodged Spot from _his_ corner of the couch, and we waited for her to resettle before he handed my padd back to me, Lore's message displayed on the screen. "Zoe, when were you going to tell me you had encountered Lore?"

I closed my eyes against the prick of unwanted tears, but opened them before answering. "If I hadn't fainted, I'd have told you as soon as we were back here," I told him truthfully. "But I did, and then I woke up in your bed – how did three incredibly intelligent adults determine that a single man was the best guardian for a sixteen-year-old girl, by the way? – And you saw the note before I had a chance. I mean, what did you expect from me? 'Hi Data, love you, missed you, by the way, your brother left a message for you in my mouth.'"

I wasn't hysterical, but we both knew snark and ranting were my strongest defense mechanisms, and I was scared. I wasn't so much worried for my physical safety, as I was about the possibility that I might lose Data's friendship. On top of that, I was mortified at what I'd just blurted, and terrified that he would pick apart what I'd just said.

On the last point, I needn't have been worried. He let my words wash over him, and stayed focused on the questions he needed me to answer. "I am sorry to cause you further distress," he said, "but you must tell me exactly what happened. I can call Counselor Troi to join us, if her presence would help."

"No," I said. I picked up the mug of tea and took a careful sip. The hot liquid felt weird in my mouth, but no weirder than food had, and the mint flavor was soothing. "Either I trust you or I don't. And I do." I kept the cup cradled in my hands, and gave him my best blow-by-blow of everything that happened from the moment Lore showed up at the café, to the moment Data had forced the hotel room door open.

When I'd finished, he began asking more specific questions.

"Why did you leave the café with him?"

"I felt like I didn't really have a choice," I said. "I mean, he'd pointed out that it would take time for help to arrive, by which time he'd be gone, and he was dressed like you. Well, he was wearing an old uniform. It was out of date, by the way. The only reason I knew it was him was because he wanted me to…if security had come, he'd have passed himself off as you, and it would have been my word against the second officer of Starfleet's flagship. Who would _you_ believe?"

"A valid point," he conceded. "Did he say anything that might provide a key to his motivation?"

"I don't know. He seemed to think our relationship – yours and mine – was more than it is. Oh! He quoted a conversation you and I had in this room. He quoted _me._ "

"Which conversation?"

"When I said that our relationship was intimate, but not…"

"Intimate, but not sexual," he supplied. "An interesting choice, and, as we agreed then, not an inaccurate assessment."

"Data, that conversation was…here."

"I am aware of that," he said, not at all curtly. "It is disturbing, and I will investigate how it is possible as soon as we have finished our conversation."

I was quiet for a long moment. I felt like I was forgetting something, but couldn't figure out _what._ "Anyway, he put the piercing gun in my mouth, and," I gestured to my face, "and this happened, and he kissed me, and said to remind you that he'd had the first taste, and the second."

I lowered my eyes. "I never told you that part about February. I was embarrassed, and Counselor Troi didn't think it was relevant except to goad you. But _then_ , when he kissed me _then_ , he told me to tell you that he'd had the first taste." I met his eyes again. "When I have nightmares, that's what I hear him say."

"I…see," came his somewhat discomfited response. I could tell he was processing everything I was telling him. I could practically hear gears spinning inside his head. Okay, not really, but… "Zoe," he said very gently. "Did Lore…force himself on you, sexually?"

Part of me wanted to laugh at his polite phrasing. It seemed so out of character. "You mean, did he rape me?"

His golden eyes met my gaze and held it. "Yes."

"No. He didn't."

"Did he…seduce you?"

I wondered what prompted him to differentiate the two. Was it because, since last February, he'd learned the extent of my relationship with T'vek?  Or because he really did know that I'd been crushing on him for months?

"What? No! Data, I swear the only penetration of any kind was in my mouth." I could feel myself paling from the implication of that phrase. "With the piercing gun," I amended quickly.

"If he did…"

"If I'd thought rape was on his mind, I _would_ have called for help. You said last time, if he wanted to cause me physical harm, he could have. He _would_ have. He said I matter to you, and so I was useful to him. Anyway, rape isn't his style. Coercion? Possibly. Seduction? Definitely. But not rape."

"You seem certain."

"I _am_ certain. Also, I made sure of it while he was kissing me." Data gave me a look that clearly meant I should elaborate. "I kicked him in the balls. Thanks for the information that it would work, by the way. Though, you might have warned me about how horrible his scream would sound." _Or that he would taste like acid._

"I did not know," he said. "Somewhat ironically, you are now in a position of knowing my brother more intimately than I do."

I shivered. "Did you have to phrase it that way? I know I once asked you about meeting him, but that was when he was an idea and not a rather brutal reality." We were both quiet for a while after that. Finally, I asked. "Data…what do we do now? I mean, you have to report this, don't you?"

"That is standard protocol," he said.

"And Lore's message to you… the data-solid in my tongue…. Can you remove it?"

"I will have to examine it more closely first," he said.

"Yeah, that won't be awkward at all," I said, more to myself than to him. "When you _do_ report this, can you _not_ be specific about the nature of the conversation he quoted? Out of context it's…"

"I do not believe that level of detail will be necessary."

I opened my mouth to thank him, but yawned instead. "Sorry," I said sheepishly. "It's been… kind of a day."

"Go and rest," he suggested in a tone that made it clear I shouldn't argue. "I will begin my investigation, and contact the captain and Lt. Worf, as well as the doctor and the counselor. Someone will wake you when you are needed."

We stood up at the same time. He returned the tea things to the replicator in preparation for his investigation, and I moved toward the bedroom – his bedroom. A part of me flashed back to the beginning of the year, when he'd guarded my sleep during my mother's recuperation. A part of me indulged in a moment of fantasy about a future when sleeping in his bed would mean something very different.

"Data?"

"Is something wrong, Zoe?"

I wanted a hug, but didn't want to ask. Apparently, a rather intense year of friendship had been long enough for him to recognize when I needed reassurance. "No, never mind."

"I have observed that when you are anxious about something, you are usually soothed by a hug. Would you like one now?"

"Yes, please." I turned around and let him enfold me in his arms. It wasn't a long embrace. But it was enough.

Spot, having decided that I either needed a friend or a guard, was already on the bed. I instructed the computer to dim the lights and curled up on the bed trying not to be hyper-aware of where I was, and why.

I wasn't a cat-fan by any means, but sometimes the soft purring of an animal is the best soporific around.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44672.03**

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 07:02 hours, ship's time)**

It was Data who woke me up again, a few hours later, though in all honesty, my sleep had been fitful. I kept not-quite dreaming, and not-quite waking up. Considering that I'd slept away a good chunk of the previous day on Starbase Twelve, and then been sedated for several hours after that, the fact that I'd slept at all was miraculous.

"Zoe, I am sorry to disturb you, but the captain has asked the senior staff to be in Conference Room One at eight hundred hours, and your presence is required as well."

"What time is it now?" I asked, pushing my hair away from my face.

"Two minutes after seven. I was uncertain how much time you would need to 'get ready,' or whether you wished to shower."

"Here?" I asked, alarm and embarrassment warring for dominance. "I can't shower _here._ "

"Zoe, I may be an android, but I can assure you there is nothing atypical about the shower in my quarters. You have used the bathroom more than once." Anyone else would have been a bit testy. His tone was oddly flat, even for him.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Honestly, not everything has to do with you being an android," I said. "In fact, most things don't." I took a deep breath; my litany of the levels of wrongness could wait. "How dressed-up do I need to be? I only have summer clothes in my suitcase, but I don't think there's time to run home and change."

"If you have any clothing that does not display writing, that would be best," he answered calmly. "No one will judge you on your attire…" He stopped in the middle of his thought. "Do not move." I stayed where I was, sitting on his bed, while he turned on his heel and left the room, returning with a tricorder. "Do you typically wear jewelry to bed?" he asked.

"Jewelry?" I tried to remember if I was wearing earrings, or not.

"Your bracelet," he said, aiming the tricorder at my wrist.

I looked down at the circle of turquoise, green, and white beads and then back up at him. "Mala beads aren't really jewelry," I said, evading his question. He opened his mouth, probably to refute my statement, but I cut him off, explaining in a low voice, " _You_ gave it to me; I don't ever take it off."

I don't know if it was the tricorder reading or my statement that made him match my tone, but what he said was, "I am gratified that it pleases you," followed swiftly by, "there is an extra bead."

"What?"

"When I gave you that bracelet for your birthday, there were twenty-seven beads. There are currently twenty-eight." He tapped a command into the tricorder, then scanned my wrist again. "I believe I know how Lore heard our conversations, as well as how he was able to track you to Earth and Starbase Twelve."

"A bug?" I asked. "He planted a bug in my bracelet. When?" I thought for a moment. "Oh. After he knocked me out. But…that means he was planning it? He was planning to find me back in February?"

"It would appear so," Data said gravely.

I did not burst into tears. Instead I said. "If you want me ready for an eight AM meeting, you need to leave the room now."

"I will need to take your bracelet with me."

"Will I get it back?" I asked, automatically. "No, never mind. It doesn't matter. Not really." I held out my wrist and let him undo the fastener, leaving my wrist feeling oddly naked. As soon as he left the room, I dashed for the bathroom.

We made it to the conference room at exactly seven-fifty-nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bracelet was Data's gift to Zoe back in Crush, chapter 31. Lore knocked Zoe out in chapter 33, and her reactions to that incident began in chapter 34. Music will resume shortly. (For Data's POV of the last half of this chapter and the beginning of the next, see my one-shot In Conference.)


	3. Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe tells her story, and shows off a new piece of jewelry.

**Stardate 44672.16**

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 09:31 hours, ship's time.)**

As it turned out, meetings of the entire senior staff - well, at least the key players among the staff – were less formal and slightly less intimidating than I'd imagined them to be.

Counselor Troi and Commander LaForge greeted me with hugs, while Commander Riker merely touched my shoulder as he skirted by me to take his seat. I couldn't figure out when Data had conferred with people, but it was obvious that the seat I was directed to, and the fact that he and the Counselor were flanking me while Geordi was directly across from me, was planned for my comfort.

They'd even arranged things so I could see out the large window that dominated the outer bulkhead wall. It wasn't quite seeing where we were going – the ship hadn't left Starbase Twelve yet, for one thing – but it was nice to have a view. Seeing the stars was actually sort of relaxing.

Data relayed his version of the past day or so, from the moment he burst into my hotel room, and then I told mine. Questions - many of them following along the same lines as those Data had asked me privately - were put to me, and I answered them as best as I could. Then Data explained about my bracelet, and shared that Lore had apparently made the switch all the way back in February. This elicited a non-verbal growl from Lieutenant Worf, but he seemed to be growling at the situation, and not at Data or me.

It was agreed that Data would try to locate Lore, and then they moved on to other business. I hadn't been asked to leave, so I listened as the talk turned to the status of those who were injured – and killed – in the explosions.

The counselor asked if the bomber had been captured, and the growly security chief shared that the Keep Earth Human League was "…taking credit for the incident." I wasn't adept at reading his tone, but my guess was that he was singularly unimpressed with the group's mission and motives.

But hearing him mention KEHL made me remember what it was I'd forgotten to tell Data, and had not included in my 'report' just a few minutes before. "That's it!" I exclaimed as my memories clicked back into order.

Data and the captain spoke at the same time, the former asking me what was wrong, the latter, much more crisply, demanding, "Ms. Harris, have you something to add?"

I took a breath, and tightened my grip on Data's hand under the table – I'd warned him in the turbo-lift that I would probably need hand-holding to get through the meeting - before I answered. "When I was telling Data what happened last night, and when I was telling everyone again this morning, I kept feeling like I was forgetting something."

The counselor seemed to sense that I hadn't gone over that part of my story, and that I was suddenly feeling nervous. Earlier, she'd wrapped a friendly arm around me. Now, she squeezed my shoulder in reassurance.

It helped.

"Continue," the captain urged, but his expression remained open.

"Data asked me last night –"

"This morning –" Leave it to Data to correct the timeline.

"This morning, whatever," I amended, slightly annoyed with him. I continued, addressing him, even though my words were really meant for everyone, "…when you asked why I went with Lore – I forgot. I _forgot_ he'd told me in the café that he wanted me to carry a message. I even asked him if I looked like a carrier pigeon."

"Can you remember Lore's exact words, Zoe?" the captain asked in the kind of gentle tone that parents use with very excitable children.

My hand was a vise around Data's and if whatever he had instead of organic flesh hadn't been incredibly durable, I'd probably have pierced it with my nails. He shifted my grip, so that it was his hand enveloping mine, and I felt him press his thumb press into the back of it, between my own thumb and forefinger. In the back of my mind, I recalled him telling me that it was a pressure point for tension relief.  He'd demonstrated it during one of our Saturday Sessions when my hands were sore from too much practicing. But that had been… before. At that that moment, I focused on the bloom of heat that came with his touch, and after a few seconds, I was relaxed enough to face the captain.

"He said, 'you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it.'" I paused to sip some of the water from the glass that had been set before me. "Captain Picard – everyone – I'm obviously about as well-trained as a Rigellian ringed wombat –" Geordi's lips twitched in response to that. "- but I saw the KEHL people at customs. The agent who handled my paperwork said they'd been there for weeks, but they still hadn't figured out that they should hold their demonstrations at the Earth-bound departure lounge instead of arrivals."

I had watched Data process information more than once. Now I saw the captain performing a more organic version of the same practice. It lasted several seconds, and then he asked, speaking very slowly, "Mr. Data, is it possible that Lore was actually responsible for these bombings?"

Data said that it was, and then the captain started handing out assignments, including one for me, though that was just to let the doctor examine the tongue-stud.

As everyone began to leave, Data stood with me, almost hovering. I watched him interacting with his colleagues: he confirmed with the doctor that he had given me a painkiller; he told Lt. Worf that they'd be conferring in about an hour and a half, and he received a friendly clap on the shoulder from Geordi, and then it was just the two of us again.

"Well, that was only slightly worse than a dental appointment," I snarked. "I'm sorry for being less than helpful."

"On the contrary, you handled yourself very well," he countered.

"I didn't," I couldn't help but protest. "I was terrified, and I felt so _stupid,_ and I had to hold your hand like I was some idiot child."

"I beg to differ. You may have felt 'terrified' but you presented yourself with calm and poise. As to your need to hold my hand, is it not natural to seek support and reassurance in a new situation?"

"Well… yes," I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and then I was moved to confess, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

He was quick to assure me, his tone as serious as I'd ever heard it, "You have not. Indeed, you _could_ not."

Inexplicably, his reassuring words made my eyes misty. Wanting – no, _needing_ – to make a gesture of appreciation for being supportive and kind during the meeting, as well as for refraining from lectures or judgement when I'd initially told him what happened, and finding that words were not enough, I rose to my tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

It was probably just my imagination, but when my lips touched his skin, the metal stud in my tongue seemed to get slightly warmer.

Data lifted his hand to touch the spot I'd kissed, lowering it almost immediately, but he seemed to be as much at a loss for words as I was.

Finally, I asked. "Do meetings make everyone hungry, or just me? Do you think we could have breakfast before I have to submit to being poked and prodded by Dr. Crusher?" I didn't give him space to answer, just babbled on, "And… after that, could we get my stuff from your quarters so I can go home. You're awesome, and everything, and I know you had me stay with you so I'd be watched over, but…"

Data stared at me with wide golden eyes for over a second. When he finally answered me, it was with a question: "Is Ten-Forward an acceptable breakfast location?" Then _he_ continued without missing a beat, just as I had. "If so, I will inform both Lt. Worf and the doctor that we will both be delayed, and I will escort you to your quarters after you have eaten."

_It's a date_ , I didn't say, but a part of me wanted to, so I just smiled at him instead. I let him lead the way out of the conference room and to the bank of turbo-lifts, though I asked him as we walked, "Data, you know how I said in one of my letters that I wanted to see what you were like on duty?"

"Of course, Zoe. I have a perfect memory record of every letter and call we exchanged while you were away."

"Well, I should have been more specific. I really didn't want to observe you at work on a mission involving me."

He tilted his head at me, but all he said was, "Indeed."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44672.67**

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 12:38 hours, ship's time)**

"Okay, Zoe, open wide,"

Dr. Crusher had already scanned me from head to toe, but apparently, that wasn't enough. The next trick in her repertoire was an old-school visual inspection of my mouth, of the kind that involved pen-lights and tongue depressors. Never had I been so glad to have brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth after breakfast. I mean, sure, warding off a potential infection in the hole in my tongue was great, but it was good to know the doctor wouldn't find anything gross during her… investigation.

"Is it still causing you pain?" she asked, while still holding my tongue with a pair of things that looked like tiny tongs. Why did doctors and dentists always do that? Unable to answer, I gave her my best slitty-eyed glare. "Sorry," she laughed lightly. "I hate it when dentists do that, too." She released my tongue, and gave me a moist towelette to clean the lower half of my face.

"So, is there any chance I can lose the jewelry before my mom gets back?" I asked.

Her smiling face crinkled into a frown. "I'm not sure," she said. "It _looks_ very much like a standard barbell stud, but the balls on each end seem to be fused by some chemical compound. I'm running the analysis through the computer, but I'm honestly not even sure what to look for."

"Lore said it contained a data-solid. That would imply that there's a way to remove it without, you know, yanking my tongue out of my mouth."

"Nobody's doing any yanking," she agreed. "Do you remember anything else?"

I closed my eyes, trying to put myself back in the hotel room, on the bed. "He used a piercing gun that looked like a small phaser blaster. He forced my mouth open, pressed it against my tongue, and then there was a kind of muffled click, and then white-hot pain."

"Did you smell anything? Taste anything?"

"His breath was hot and smelled kind of oily and metallic. I don't know if that's normal… I mean… I kissed Data today and didn't smell that, but…" I trailed off in response to the look on her face. "What?"

"You kissed Data?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not some teenage nymphomaniac desperate to hit on my tutor," I said. "He took care of me last night and this morning. He let me hold his hand all through that meeting. I kissed him on the cheek. It was… there was nothing improper or inappropriate."

She shifted ever-so-slightly into mom-mode, and ruffled my hair. "Of course it wasn't," she said. "I didn't mean to imply anything wrong."

"No, it's fine," I said, lowering my voice. "I guess it's time to own my crush, instead of denying it, just… don't tell _him_ , please?"

"Not a word," she promised. "Although," she added speculatively, "as close as the two of you seem to be, and as protective as Data is of you, I wouldn't be surprised if something real did develop between you, over time."

"The friendship we already have _is_ real," I pointed out. "But even if I wasn't in his class, I'm too young, and he's a line officer, and I doubt he'd ever even be interested in me, so…" I sighed. "Anyway, I'm sixteen; I'm supposed to have crushes on wildly inappropriate people."

She smiled the mom-smile at me again. "You're handling everything with Lore so well, that I forget you're two years younger than Wesley sometimes."

"Oh! Wesley!" I shifted on the bio-bed, and nearly elbowed her in the nose. "He sent back a present for you, and I forgot to bring it when I came down here."

"Well, m'dear, you can bring it by later, or you can join Deanna and me for dinner in Ten-Forward and bring it there."

I was about to accept, when another thought crossed my mind. "I'd like that," I said, "but I haven't seen Dana and Annette since I left, and I'd really like to hook up with them. Unless… maybe you and Counselor Troi wouldn't mind if all of us joined you?"

She grinned. "I think it could be fun," she said. "Now, scoot. You're not sick, just slightly…"

"Perforated?" I suggested. "Apparently, Lore never got the 'do not fold, spindle, or mutilate' message."

The doctor laughed again. "Well, you have a good attitude, at least. Call me if the pain gets worse. Data's already sent the painkiller he had you drink to the replicator in your quarters. Have a dose before bedtime. In a day or so, you probably won't need it, but I'd feel better knowing you were getting good rest."

"Okay," I said. "And thanks." Impulsively, I hugged her, and after a beat, I felt her pat my back. Why did mothers – even other people's mothers - always do that? "See you at dinner."

**(=A=)**

Annette and Dana were waiting for me when I got to my quarters, and they immediately pulled me into a group hug.

"So," Annette asked, "how's our intrepid traveler?"

I grinned. "Come inside, and I'll tell all." Well, the edited version of all. I entered the passcode and they followed me inside, where my cello and suitcase were still sitting in the middle of the living room.

"Didn't you get back late last night?" Dana asked.

"Um… sort of. Let me go change to normal clothes and then we'll make snacks and you can get your presents."

"You brought us presents?" Annette asked, "Zoe, you didn't have to. Hey, what do you want to eat?"

"Something soft," I said. "Ice cream? Pie? A cheese omelet. I have a … thing… in my mouth." I dragged my suitcase into my room, and closed the door behind me, stripping off the sundress, and exchanging it for a pair of jeans and an ACT t-shirt. I collected the presents for my friends, and returned.

"A 'thing' in your mouth?" Dana demanded. I opened my mouth to show them. "Oh, god. Zoe. You pierced your tongue."

"Did I? I hadn't noticed." I couldn't help teasing them a little.

"Zoe!"

"Sorry, Dana. It's just… there's a long story behind it, and it's complicated and I don't know if I'm allowed to share it with anyone, but I will say that I think this totally elevates my credibility as a rebel."

"Does your mother know?" my best friend asked.

"More to the point, does _Theo_ know?" Annette added.

"No one knows except you two and Dr. Crusher," I said. "And Theo and I decided it was better if we were just friends."

"But you two seemed like you were on your way to more…" Annette protested.

"He was so sweet," Dana added.

"We were, and we weren't," I explained. "But yes, he was sweet. Is sweet." I thrust their packages at them. "Here, open these."

They settled at the dining table to open their gifts, and I went to the replicator, and got tomato soup and grilled cheese for three. "Annette, your second package is from Wes," I told her, as I delivered our tray to the table, then went back for iced tea. "He made me promise not to let it stay with the stuff Mom and Ed are carting home for me."

"Oh, Zoe, you shouldn't have," Annette held up the scarf I'd picked for her.

"Well, you said you were hoping to be heading off to Edinburgh for college next year; I wanted you to be prepared for those soggy Scottish winters. Besides, I thought the gray and purple would suit you."

She wound it around her neck, "I love it," she said. "Now I want to see what Wes sent." And we watched while she opened that package as well. "Oh...this is lovely," it was a pin made from polished rocks. "You and he went shopping together, didn't you?"

"I might've given him some input," I allowed. "But it was his idea. Actually, both pieces – and Dana's too – came from an arts and crafts fair in one of the parks. Theo and some of his friends instituted a tradition where we all went to brunch on Sundays after he and his aunt went to church, and Wes joined us some of the time." My tone softened. "I think he's a little lonely at the Academy. He has so much practical experience, but he's never had to really compete before."

"You sound like you learned something about competition yourself," Dana observed, as she tore open the paper wrapping on her package. "Oh, Zoe… these are awesome." She held up the collection of hair ties I'd picked for her.

"I figured, just because you have a thing for ponytails doesn't mean you can't have really snazzy ones."

She leaned over to give me a one-armed hug. "I love them; thank you."

"I brought Josh a t-shirt; I hope that's okay?"

"He'll love it," she assured me. "But what did you bring for _Data_."

"What makes you think I brought anything to him?" I asked, using my best nonchalant tone.

"Zoe!" Dana protested.

"We all know you're his favorite, Zo'," Annette elaborated. "You and he are actual friends, not just teacher and student."

"Alright," I conceded, "I brought him something, but he hasn't opened it yet, I don't think, so I'm not telling."

"Spoilsport," Annette grumbled good-naturedly.

"How 'bout, instead, I tell you about the drama instructor I had. He's this big bear of a Scotsman, and for the first week or two, I was convinced he hated me. Every exercise he asked us to do made me uncomfortable and awkward, and I actually called my father crying at one point." I waited a beat, and then added in a very soft voice. "I even called _Data_ , crying about him."

"You? Crying? About a teacher. I don't believe it," Dana said.

" _You've_ never met Lachlan Meade," I said. And then I told them everything that had happened at ACT, at Suzuki, and in between, including seeing T'vek again. By the time I was done, and they had shared the events of their 'summer' break, it was time to meet Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Data's side of the end of the previous chapter and the beginning of this one, see my one-shot "In Conference." For purposes of this story, Data's quarters are on deck 8, and he's always had the two-room suite he should have had as 2nd officer.


	4. Bedtime Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe gets one late night visitor in the form of a cat, and the other in the form of an unwelcome hologram.

**Stardate 44673.47**

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 19:38 hours, ship's time)**

Dinner had been light and fun, which was exactly what I needed that night. The doctor and the counselor had insisted we use their first names, at least for the duration of the meal, and while I usually had no problem with that practice – Data had always been just 'Data' to me, Geordi was 'Geordi,' and Professor Benoit had been 'Ed' even before he'd started dating my mother – for some reason, with these two women, I felt as though I hadn't earned the right.

Annette had no such compunction, and, oddly, neither did the usually conservative Dana, so I forced myself to push through the awkwardness, and ultimately enjoyed the evening. We talked about Annette's college plans, and whether Dana and I had chosen schools yet. We talked about first loves and how relationships change over time.

At one point Dr. Crusher – _Beverly –_ said that as much as she had loved her late husband Jack, a part of her wished she'd waited longer to get married.

"How old were you?" I asked.

"In my early twenties," she answered. "That's pretty early these days."

"Gran – my father's mother, Irene Harris – has this theory that women shouldn't marry before they turn thirty. Well, human women, anyway."

Everyone was suddenly very attentive. "Your grandmother sounds like she has a lot of opinions about marriage," Counselor Troi – _Deanna_ – commented.

"Oh, she does," I said. "She has this letter she writes to all the girls in the family when they turn sixteen, with a sort of checklist."

"A checklist," Dana asked. "You never mentioned a checklist. Did you get a letter?"

"I did," I said. "Although, I had to ask for mine."

"How come?" Annette wanted to know.

"I guess she figured I'd been around to read enough of the letters my cousins had received, and I lived with her, when my dad stopped taking me on tour with him, to have sort of… osmosed …all her advice; but it's not all about marriage, it's sort of… about life."

"So," Deanna asked, "what's the checklist, Zoe?"

I rolled my eyes, "You really want to know?"

"Yes!" chorused my two friends and our adult companions.

I began ticking items off on my fingers. "Never trust your partner to be responsible for birth control. Always know how to please yourself so you can tell your partner. You don't have to marry the first person you sleep with, or, for that matter, at all. You shouldn't get married before you turn thirty. Whatever age you get married, even if it's just a limited contract marriage, make sure you've finished your education, lived independently for at least a year, traveled, and had at least one truly tragic love affair."

"That's very good advice," the counselor observed. "Anything else?"

I thought about it. "Not about that, but… she's an activist from a long line of activists, so she's always pushed being well-read, well-informed, and having opinions. When my cousin Vanessa turned eighteen, Gran took her on a special weekend trip that included making sure she registered to vote. And of course, she taught all of us that music is one of the most vital forms of communication."

"Sounds like a very wise woman," the doctor observed.

"She taught at Starfleet Academy for a while," I said. "As a civilian guest lecturer, I think. I know that's how Mom and Dad met… and I think Commander Riker mentioned taking her class."

"I'd forgotten his time at the Academy overlapped with your mother's," said Deanna. Then she glanced at Dana and Annette, "What advice did your mothers or grandmothers pass down to you?" she asked.

Annette spoke first. "Always bring something when you're invited to someone's house, even if it's just a plant. Always leave a place better than you found it, clean up after yourself, and offer to help with the dishes."

"Also good advice," Deanna pronounced. "Dana?"

"It's going to sound really silly," she warned. "But the thing I remember her saying most – other than that it never costs a thing to be polite – is 'always wear clean underwear.'"

For a moment, we were all silent, and then we burst into collective laughter. We were so boisterous that we drew Guinan's attention, and she stopped by our table, hovering between Dana's chair and mine, with hand resting on the back of each. "You are all having too much fun over here," she said by way of a greeting. "I came to see if I could join in."

"We're sharing sage advice," the doctor said. "Got any for us?" Amusement made her voice sound musical.

"Yes," she said, "and I see you've already taken it: share a meal with friends whenever possible, support other women, and never be afraid to laugh." She glanced at the remains of the meal we'd shared – an array of pasta dishes in deference to my still-slightly-sore tongue. "I can see you've finished your meal. Do you want dessert?"

"Only if it's chocolate," Deanna and I said together.

"And kind of mushy," Dana added, making a face at me. "Zoe's got a tongue piercing."

"Dana!"

"What? It's not like you can hide it. It sort of… sparkles… every time you open your mouth."

"Let me see?" Guinan asked, so I turned my head and opened my mouth to show her. "Hmm. Not what I would have picked for you, but not bad. Removing it will be interesting."

I stared into her fathomless black eyes for a long moment, wondering exactly what she knew.

"I may decide to keep it," I hedged.

"No, I don't think so," was her response. "I'll send someone to clear your dishes and bring out some chocolate mousse." Her hand grazed my shoulder as she left, and I'm sure it was on purpose. Oddly, that brief contact left me feeling a little more settled.

After dessert, I handed out the presents. The counselor, was delighted by the box of chocolate cable cars. "Kitschy, I know," I said, "but how could I resist?"

"I'm glad you didn't."

The doctor's gift was the one from Wes that I'd forgotten to bring to sickbay: a hand painted silk scarf. Just as Annette had, earlier, the red-haired woman said, "Zoe, you helped pick this out, didn't you?"

"I might have nudged Wes in the right direction," I hedged.

"I'm glad you two spent time together."

"Actually," I deadpanned, "He, Theo, and I have formed a support group for teens and young adults with Starfleet parents. I'm the president."

The doctor laughed and the counselor asked if she could be an honorary member, which Dana, Annette, and I pretended to consider until our chocolate mousse arrived. As we dug into the creamy goodness, Annette observed, "Commander Data has been watching our table awfully carefully."

"Considering that the bulk of his math class is at this table, he's probably just considering how much mathier our tutorial can be," I joked.

"'Mathier?' Zoe, really?"

I shrugged. "That or he's enjoying a chance to observe multiple generations of women at once." I used the nature-film narration voice I'd once used with Data himself. "Observation has shown that humanoid females have a marked fondness for chocolate-based confections, especially when a group of them congregates…"

"Zoe!" the doctor exclaimed. "That's unfair." She took a beat. "Accurate, but unfair." She was laughing when she said it.

"Why do I get the feeling that sending you off to a summer drama program created a monster?" Dana joked.

"Why would you think I wasn't a monster before?" I shot back, offering her my sweetest smile.

**(=A=)**

By ten p.m. – or rather, twenty-two hundred hours – our dinner party had broken up. Dana was meeting Josh for a bit before her curfew, Annette had a scheduled vid-call with Wesley, some ensign named Ezekiel had broken his ankle 'again,' which required Dr. Crusher's attention, and the counselor… "Zoe, it's getting late. Mind if I walk you back to quarters?"

I suspected that it wouldn't have mattered if I did mind. "Sure," I said. "Why not."

We left the table, but she didn't start talking to me again until we were in the turbolift heading down to the officers' decks.

"You had quite an adventure yesterday," she said. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "You tell me," I said. And then, because I knew how that must have sounded, I added quickly, "I'm not being flippant this time. I woke up in the middle of the night in Data's bed, and since then, except for napping again for a few hours, I've been going nonstop. I should be exhausted, but I haven't had a moment to really _feel_ anything, and my tongue hurts, a little, which means it's time for more painkiller, but… otherwise? I really don't know."

She touched my hand. "Slow down," she suggested quietly. "Breathe."

"Sorry. I was edging toward hysteria there, wasn't I?"

"A little," she agreed, but there was a smile in her voice.

I took a deep breath, as the turbolift doors opened onto an empty corridor. "Honestly," I said, "I know at some point everything's going to hit me and I'll be a basket case, but right now I'm just pissed off. I feel stupid and… and _used_ … and I feel like I want to punch him in the nose."

We both knew the 'him' in question was Lore.

"You'd break your hand," she pointed out helpfully.

"Probably," I agreed. "But it would be so…satisfying…at least until the pain set in. Anyway, my mother's going to kill me when she finds out I have a tongue piercing, and then she'll kill me again when she finds out why, so it doesn't really matter."

"You haven't told her?"

I sighed. "I sent her a message that I was safely on the ship, and unharmed by the explosions, but the rest… she shouldn't have to hear that via subspace. All it would do is wreck her vacation, and honestly, the grounding she'll give me - for my own protection, no doubt – will probably last longer than six lifetimes, so I'm going to enjoy what little relative freedom I have left."

We were at my door by then, and I invited her in, but she declined. "I think a little alone-time is the best thing for you right now. Change to pajamas, take your painkiller, read a good book or something. You can call me or Data at any time if you need anything, even if it's just a bad dream."

"Speaking of Data…" I began. Then I stopped. "Actually, never mind. It's not that important."

She stared at me as if she didn't quite believe me, but she didn't push. "Alright. I would like you to check in with me sometime tomorrow, though."

"I will," I said. "I promise. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Zoe." She turned and left, her dark curls bouncing as she walked. Sometimes, I envied the bounciness of her hair. Mostly, I wondered how many hours it took to detangle it every day.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face, and rinse my mouth out, taking time to examine the stud in my tongue. It clicked against my teeth sometimes, but the pain was no longer as bad as it had been even a few hours before. I changed into the same tank top and sweats I'd worn in Data's quarters. There was stray cat hair on the top, and I picked it off, then curled up on my bed to read.

Only then did I realize I'd left my padd with Data.

A part of me wanted to call him and ask if I could come get it, and watch him open his present. A part of me knew that I shouldn't bother him unnecessarily.

I padded out to the main room, and replicated the shot-glass of painkiller I'd promised to take, and asked the computer for the time. It wasn't even twenty-three hundred hours, and I was half convinced the day would never actually end. I went back to my room, stripped the quilt from my bed, and wrapped it around myself, not as much for warmth as for comfort. I accessed the entertainment system, flipping through menus until I found a romantic comedy that was well-written enough to not be annoying, and curled up on the couch to watch it.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44674.05**

**(Monday 4 September 2367, 00:42 hours, ship's time)**

I don't remember falling asleep, but I know I woke up to the end-credits of the video and a purring cat batting at my hair. "Spot?" I asked, confused. "How did you get in here?"

The cat did not deign to answer.

I asked the computer for the time, and learned that a mere two or so hours had gone by, but that while I'd dozed through my video, the 'calendar page' had flipped. September 3rd was finally over, after all. I asked the computer for Data's location, learned he was on the bridge, and sent a text message offering to trade his cat for my padd, once his duty-shift was over.

I was tired, but not really in the mood to sleep – I knew there would be nightmares – but I also knew that falling asleep in front of another vid wasn't the best plan either. Since Spot seemed disinclined to get off my quilt, I scooped her up with it, set the lock code on the door, and went to rinse my mouth out one more time before bed.

It had only been two nights, but this extra oral hygiene was already becoming a new bedtime ritual. I realized that whether I still had a piercing or not, my next dental checkup would likely be fantastic.

As I slid into my bed, I instituted another bedtime ritual: I grabbed the hated comm-badge I'd been blissfully separated from all summer, and slid it under my pillow, keeping my hand loosely around it. Between that and Spot's soft, sleepy, breathing, I soon fell asleep.

**(=A=)**

_Meeeeeoooowwwwrrrrrrrrr!_ Spot's screech, and the following thud as she leaped from my bed and landed on the floor woke me from a dream that had been surprisingly not-horrible.

My own scream rivaled hers in both pitch and volume, because when I sat up in bed Lore was standing in front of my door.

"Well, Zoe," he mocked. "Didn't figure you for a screamer. All of our other encounters have been so…quietly intense." He pulled a face. "Did I wake you?" His chuckle was low, menacing, and totally stage-y. "Oh, wait, do I care? I don't think I do."

I threw one of my pillows at him. Not the smartest thing to do, I know, but at least it wasn't passive. Also, when it went _through_ him I realized he was a hologram – or some kind of projection, anyway. My other hand was still under the other pillow, still holding the comm-badge. I pressed it with my thumb, but nothing happened.

"Nothing to say to me," holo-Lore asked. "I'm disappointed, little girl."

Anger was starting to replace fear in my sleep-addled brain. "Forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. Is there a point to this late-night social call? Are you really that desperate for attention?"

"Attention? Why, yes… this is about attention. You and my brother haven't been paying any. I gave you a message for him, and it hasn't been delivered yet. Tick-tock, little pigeon. Mad dog's getting closer." He punctuated his last sentence by making a sort of barking, growling sound and gnashing his teeth.

The hologram winked out of existence, and the comm-badge suddenly connected, "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data," I said as loudly and as quickly as I could, while I slid the thing out from under the pillow.

_"This is Data. Zoe, what is wrong?"_

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you're on duty, but I just woke up to a holographic visit from Lore."

_"I am on my way. Stay where you are, and do not allow anyone in until I arrive."_

"Wasn't planning on it," I said. "I mean, okay."

_"Data out."_

I've never been sure if he ran all the way from the bridge to my mom's quarters, or if he managed to make the turbo-lift move at breakneck speed, or if he used the transporter, but Data was at my door almost before I'd pulled my sweatpants back on under the tank top I'd worn to bed, and dragged my quilt (sans Spot, who was weaving between my ankles) back to the main room.

The annunciator chirped. "Zoe, it is Data. May I enter?"

I released the lock code on the door. "Come in," I called.

He came right to where I was sitting. "Are you unharmed?" he asked, before anything else.

"Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, the jury's still out. Spot woke up before I did, by the way. Too bad you can't interrogate her."

"I am still uncertain as to how she gained entry to your quarters in the first place. Where did Lore's hologram appear?"

"In my room," I said. "Between the bed and the door."

"What did it say?"

I was momentarily confused by Data's use of the pronoun 'it' in reference to his brother, but then I realized he meant the hologram, not Lore himself. I relayed the conversation as well as I could.

"Do you know when the transmission began?" he asked.

"Um, maybe seven minutes before I comm'd you. I tried a few times during, but it wouldn't go through."

"I am not surprised."

The door chime sounded again, and Data left my side to greet the security detail, led by Lt. Worf. I heard him consult with the latter in voices too low for me to discern what they were saying, and then Worf and the pair of security ensigns whipped out their tricorders, and started scanning everything in my quarters, including my room.

Several minutes later, the three of them returned to the center of the main room. "Sir," Lt. Worf began, addressing Data, "we have scanned the entire cabin. There is no evidence of an intruder, but we did find evidence of an EM spike large enough to account for a holographic signal."

"I expected little else," Data said. "Please send copies of your official report to myself as well as Captain Picard."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

I waited for several seconds after the trio of security officers had gone before I asked. "Data, is it usual for the head of security to lead details in the middle of the night?"

"As chief of security, protocol dictates that Lt. Worf be notified any time there is an incident requiring a security detail," he informed me matter-of-factly.

I just gave him a _look_.

"It is not entirely _un_ usual," he allowed. "As well, it is no longer the 'middle' of the night, but shortly before zero five hundred hours. Lt. Worf was likely awake and well into his 'morning routine' already."

"Oh, okay." I waited a beat. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"We _have_ to tell my mother what's going on now, don't we?"

"It will not affect the speed of her return home," he said, "but I believe that informing her of recent events would be 'the right thing to do,' if for no other reason than to prepare her for what she may find."

"You say that like you expect to walk in here some morning and find me all…" I couldn't utter the word 'dead.' "…corpsified."

"That will _not_ happen," he said with more intensity than I thought possible. "I will not allow it," he added.

I reached for his hand, finding comfort in the feeling of his palm pressed against mine. "Okay," I said." Again, I let silence stretch between us, though I was pretty sure I could actually _hear_ him thinking. "What happens now?" I asked, my voice coming out smaller than I'd expected.

"Right now, I would like you to gather a change of clothing, and whatever you need to prepare for your day."

"I'm moving?" I asked.

"Your skin is pale, there is shading beneath your eyes that I believe is referred to as 'dark circles,' and your respiration is uneven," he observed. "You may have been asleep when Lore's latest 'message' arrived, but you clearly require further rest. Unfortunately, I cannot stay here to guard your sleep, as I must have access to the workstation in my quarters."

"Gee, Data, if you want to take me home with you, there are better ways to say it," I joked, forgetting for a moment just who my audience was.

He turned his yellow-eyes on me and deadpanned, "I believe, in that case, the correct question would then be, "Do you wish to 'see my etchings?'"

My laughter was brief and slightly hollow, and I sobered instantly. "You really believe I need to be guarded?"

"I know that you are prone to nightmares, and that a caring presence has been enough to keep them at bay in the past."

I managed not to blush at his implication that he cared about me. "Fifteen minutes," I said. I released his hand, rose from the couch, and went to gather the things I'd need for the morning.

**(=A=)**

How we'd managed to avoid running into people in the corridors, I will never know, but within half an hour I was tucked into Data's bed, though my quilt was on top of his 'fleet-issue bedspread, and he'd already left a message for Mom and Ed, at the B&B where they were staying, and called Counselor Troi to inform her of my whereabouts.

There wouldn't be a response from my mother for hours yet, but the counselor told Data to let me 'sleep myself out.'

"I will be in the main room," he informed me once I was as settled as I was going to get. "Do you require anything before I resume my work?"

"A glass of water, and my padd?" I asked.

He left the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with both of my requests. I sipped some of the water, then put my glass on the bedside table, an extension of the built-in headboard, really. He held onto my padd, saying, "I realize that you may not want to sleep immediately, but I would caution you against using this device. The use of electronics directly before sleep has been shown to have minor adverse effects."

I knew that, but, "I just want to read a while," I said. "It's distracting. It'll help me get Lore out of my head, and stave off the nightmares." It should have been weird, having a conversation with him while I was in his bed, but somehow it wasn't. Somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the universe. "Reading or music are the only things that ever help."

"Music?" he asked, his face brightening into what I now knew was his 'idea face.' "Would you like me to play for you for a few minutes?"

I wasn't in the mood for violin music, but as long as he was offering… "You sing, don't you? I mean, I've heard you singing phrases of our music to me, but you know actual songs, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Do you have a preference?"

"Anything quiet, and anything that's _not_ Gilbert and Sullivan," I requested.

"May I sit?" he gestured to the end of the bed.

"It's your bed," I pointed out. "I'm just borrowing it for the night."

Gingerly, he perched on the edge of his bed, dimmed the lights throughout his quarters, and began to sing. I didn't know if he could see my expression in the low light, but his choice couldn't have been more perfect, because it was the piece I'd played for _him_ the previous spring: Debussy's _Clair de Lune._

Smiling, I closed my eyes, and let his warm tenor voice send me toward sleep. I wasn't quite there when he ended his song, but I felt him lift a few strands of my hair and then drop them. "Thank you," I told him. "That was nice."

"You are welcome," he replied. "Goodnight, Zoe."

He got to his feet, and moved away from the bed. "Can you leave the door open?"  I asked softly. "At least part-way? I kind of… it's reassuring to know you're _there_."

"If I keep the illumination at this level, will you be able to sleep?" His voice was also pitched lower than usual, or maybe it was the darkness that made it seem so.

"It won't keep you from working?"

"It will not."

"I'm good if you are."

"Then I will do as you ask."

It turned out that the soft glow of the monitors on his console, combined with softly murmured commands and equally quiet keystrokes, was almost as calming and comforting as his singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Clair de Lune" by Debussy is one of the pieces Zoe played solo in "Crush," and suggested to Data that they rehearse as a duet. While it's most often heard as an instrumental, it's also a very popular French lullaby.


	5. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe admits that she's angry with Data about what happened to her.

**Stardate 44675.29**

**(Monday, 4 September 2367, 11:32 hours, ship's time)**

I finally woke up around noon, and when I did, there was this ancient pop song called _Bittersweet Symphony_ that was running circles in my head.

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down_  
You know the one that takes you to the places  
Where all the veins meet, yeah…

Well, actually, there had been a few moments before noon when I'd woken up just enough to realize that the bathroom door was closed and the sink and sonic shower were being used (not at once, obviously). _Don't think about the naked android behind the door_ , I instructed myself, rolling over in the bed and going back to sleep.

When I finally emerged from the cocoon of sheets and quilts and pillows for good, I made a brief stop in the bathroom, and then padded, barefoot, out to the main room of Data's quarters.

My gracious host was seated at his workstation, apparently completely focused on whatever he was doing. I watched him for several minutes, saw him pick up my bracelet, scan it with a medical tricorder, and then a scientific one, heard him make the non-verbal noise he always did when a result was unexpected, and then put it down again, in order to tap commands into the console.

It was at least five minutes before he looked up at me. "Good morning, Zoe. Did you sleep well?"

It was such an utterly ordinary thing to say that for a moment I had no idea how to respond. Finally, I said, "Um, yeah. Actually, I think it's the best rest I've had since…maybe all year?"

His eyes widened. "I can only assume that you are exaggerating."

I shook my head. "Actually, not. I was having nightmares about Lore up through the opening of _Anne_ , and then I was wired from performing, and then I was away and keeping a lot of…well, let's just say most of us looked at the curfew as a suggestion rather than an actual rule."

"I am glad you were able to get some 'real rest' then," he said. "If you are hungry, you may use the replicator."

"Would you mind if I showered and changed first?" I asked. "I promise not to freak out about using your shower again."

"If we are going to coexist together until your mother and Professor Benoit have returned to the ship," Data said. "You should know that you are not required to ask permission to use any of the…facilities. However, if you wish to ensure that your privacy is not breeched, I would appreciate it if you informed me."

"I'm sorry, did you just say that I'm staying with you for the rest of the week?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I do not understand your objection," he said.

I stared at him for a long moment, and realized he truly _didn't_ get it. "It's… complicated," I said. "Maybe I should ask Counselor Troi to help me explain."

"We have never needed the intercession of the counselor to work through interpersonal problems before," he pointed out.

"No, the last time we had anything close to a problem it was never resolved at all, because it was also the _first_ time I got tangled up in your brother's games." I said, and then I walked up to his desk, and extended my hand. "Hi, I'm Zoe Harris. I'll be your pawn today." I'm not sure why I said it, but I regretted it immediately. Maybe my mouth really _would_ be the death of me someday. "Oh, god," I said. "I'm sorry."

Anyone else would have been seething with anger, or even exploding with it. Data just looked up at me with a completely blank face. "Perhaps you should shower and change now," the words were uttered in a perfectly neutral tone. "Counselor Troi wishes to see you as soon as you are ready."

I returned to his bedroom and locked the door after it swished closed. I took what must have been the fastest sonic shower in recorded history, threw on jeans and a t-shirt bearing a stylized cello and the Suzuki Institute's logo, and breezed past Data's console and out the door.

If he spoke to me, as I fled, I didn't notice.

**(=A=)**

_But I'm a million different people  
From one day to the next_

Fifteen minutes later, I was in Counselor Troi's office, telling her what happened. "…and then I kind of snapped at him," I said, relaying our brief conversation. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not," she said. "But you have been through an unusually stressful few days."

"Stress? What stress? Doesn't every kid want to spend the wee hours of the morning with half the senior officers of Starfleet's flagship traipsing through her bedroom?"

"Interesting that you describe yourself as a kid."

"Aren't I?"

"You're sixteen. You may not be quite an adult, at least legally, but you're certainly not a child, either. I'd say you're a very scared, very brave young woman, who is dealing with an extremely unusual situation."

"Don't forget funny. I'm all about the funny."

She smiled at me. "Alright. Brave, funny, and scared."

"And stylish," I added. "I mean, really, I own only the best in trendy victim-wear." I gestured to my oh-so-fetching attire.

"Zoe…"

"Sorry," I said. "I'm hungry, I'm punchy, and, yeah…like you said, scared." I hesitated. "Isn't it an oxymoron, being scared _and_ brave?"

"Not really. You know the line…'courage isn't the absence of fear…'"

"It's pushing through in spite of it," I paraphrased. "I don't feel like I'm pushing through anything, though. I feel like all I'm doing is giving a lot of people extra work."

"I can see how it might seem that way, but none of this is your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No. It isn't. But I'm not surprised you blame yourself, at least as much as you blame Data."

"I don't blame Data," I said quickly. "Well, not much."

"Don't you?" she asked pointedly. "Isn't he the person who told you not to be worried about Lore? Isn't he the person who said Lore was unlikely to harm you?"

"Well, yes," I said. "But I'm pretty sure he believed it when he said it."

"But you're still angry with him for being wrong."

"Everyone makes mistakes," I said.

" _Everyone_?" she asked.

Everyone had to include Data, obviously. I responded with a single, somewhat sheepish, syllable: "Oh."

Her carefully neutral expression warmed into a smile. "Do you think you can talk to Data about what you're feeling? It's a pretty safe bet that he honestly _doesn't_ understand."

"Knowing Data," I said, "it's also a pretty safe bet that he blames himself more than I do."

"I'm certain he does," she confirmed. "The two of you are going to need to work pretty closely to figure out what Lore wants and how to remove your little metal accessory."

I grinned at her phrasing, but sobered quickly. "What do you mean the _two_ of us? I'm pretty sure I really _am_ just a pawn in this game. And a carrier pigeon."

"You're also the only one who interacted directly with Lore. That's one of the reasons I want you staying with Data. We all need to know you're somewhere safe until your parents return."

"Parent," I corrected, mostly because I was trying to deflect the next topic. "Singular. The other one's off waiting for his replacement wife to pop out their replacement kid." I could tell she was making a mental note for us to talk about _that_ at some point.

"Alright, until your mother returns, I think it would be best that you stay with Data."

"Counselor Troi," I began in my best pleading voice, " _Deanna_ , please don't make me do that. It's all… weird and awkward. _He_ never treats me like a child. Ever. And I'm afraid I'll forget, and cross a line, and he'll know…"

"Know what? That you care for him?" She changed the pitch of her voice, making her next sentence sound more serious. " _You_ know Data would do anything to keep you from further harm, Zoe. Have you considered that he might need you right now, as much as you need him?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Are you certain of that? Think, Zoe: how many letters and calls did you two exchange while you were away? Who punched their way into your hotel room? Whose brother is doing all of this?" She hesitated, "He was subdued the entire time you were away, except when he'd just heard from you. I believe he _needs_ to protect you, even if he won't admit it. If you're concerned about your reputation…"

I cut her off, "Mine? Oh, that's absurd. People think I'm sleeping with an officer, my cred goes up. Besides, I couldn't care less about my reputation. I care about his."

"Oh?" She seemed both impressed and surprised that I'd even considered that point.

"People talk," I said. "And I've seen the news files and read the stories. I know he had to go through a hearing to prove he was a person. And I know some stupid old admiral tried to take his daughter from him. If the wrong people think there's anything more than casual friendship, they could take him apart. And Counselor… Deanna… our friendship hasn't been casual for… ever."

"I know," she said. I was sitting on the couch in her office, and she'd been sitting in her chair, but she got up, then, and joined me, pulling me into a one-armed embrace. "You and Data have had a connection from the beginning," she said. "We all see it, and we all recognize it as both real and rare, especially for him. No one on this ship is going to question your friendship, and, if it turns into something more someday, we'll all be joyful."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, first," she said. "We go to your quarters, and gather a few more changes of clothes, and your cello. Classes don't begin until after your mother is back, but that doesn't mean you can't resume your music. It will likely help you and Data communicate better with that aspect of your relationship restored."

I nodded my agreement. She had a point. But I also asked, "And then?"

"Data mentioned you hadn't eaten today."

"Counselor…" I said it in the same lightly admonishing tone she'd used on me earlier, letting her know that I meant after we'd returned to music, not after my session with her.

She smiled. "Be his friend. Let him be there for you, as much as he can."

"Why does everyone always qualify that?" I asked, momentarily annoyed, but also honestly curious. "'As much as he can?' As if he's somehow sub-par. When he was watching over me last January, people kept worrying I wasn't getting emotional support, but I never felt like I missing anything. Even my mother, although she assumed he was being paternal…"

"He wasn't?"

I shook my head. "Never. Data's always just… himself. He's solid and reassuring and _present_ in a way that most people never are."

The counselor nodded and smiled, as if her empathic sense of me was supporting my words. "Alright, then. Anything else?"

"Well, I'd kill for a cheeseburger," I admitted.

"Betazoids don't eat meat," she said, "and I've got appointments all afternoon, but I bet Commander Riker could be persuaded to accompany you to Ten-Forward and join in a ritual devouring of grilled animal flesh." It sounded like she was quoting him.

"The first officer of the ship has time to have lunch with a ki – _student_?" She smiled slightly at my self-correction.

"Actually, he does, if it's for the benefit of the ship and her crew."

"I'm not crew."

"No, but you've become an important part of the _Enterprise_ family. Besides, wouldn't you love to hear stories about what your mother was like at the Academy?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" I said.

She grinned, and I couldn't help but grin back.

**(=A=)**

"…so, your mother showed up to class wearing love beads and a three-hundred-year old fringed jacket, and made her presentation on 'folk music as a weapon for change," Commander Riker said. "And Professor Harris –"

"Gran?"

"Yes, your grandmother – showed up with a tambourine and fifty cadets playing kazoos."

"Is there video of this?" I asked him as I stabbed a steak fry into a dish of bleu cheese dressing. "And…only one tambourine?"

"According to Professor Harris, more than one tambourine would be overkill."

I grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like something she'd say." I tried to be nonchalant about my next question, paying more attention to dipping a French fry in the pool of ketchup on my plate as I asked, "So, were you and Mom in the same year, or just that class?"

"Same year," he said. "Well, we started in the same year, but she took time off…"

"Because she met Dad and had me," I finished for him. "Right?"

"Exactly." He lowered his voice to a confessional tone and leaned across the table. "Don't tell your mother I told you, but we actually dated for a while during our first year. _Everyone_ wanted to date your mother. Emily Morelli was…" he shook his head and grinned. "Sorry. When she married a musician, we were all happy for her, of course, but surprised. She didn't seem the type to marry outside the 'fleet."

"I remember Mom and Dad being good together for a while," I said. "When I was really little. But Dad was always on tour, and Mom was moving from ship to ship - well, you know - and I was caught in the middle. I always thought I was more like my father; being on the _Enterprise_ has shown me that's not entirely true."

"And now she's dating the captain's boyhood friend," Riker said. "Amazing."

"Ed says they weren't really friends, so much as classmates. I'm never sure if he's downplaying, or if that's really the truth." I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just like that Mom's happy."

He peered at me appraisingly, though his blue eyes betrayed his amusement. "Are you sure you're only sixteen?" he teased.

"Seventeen in a little over four months," I said. "I really need to remind Geordi about the flitter lessons he promised for my birthday, so I'll be ready for the licensing exam at Christmas."

"There's a simulator on the holodeck. Tell him to see me for the clearance code, and start you on that," he offered. "We may not be near enough a planet where it's safe to practice for a while, and it won't hurt the ensigns and cadets to have a little civilian competition for best scores." He seemed to roll something over in his mind. "In fact," he said, "if your classmates haven't taken their exams yet, we should set something up for all of you."

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"I would," he said, grinning, "for Emily Morelli's daughter."

"But…"

"What, 'but?'"

"There's always a 'but,'" I said. "And your eyes have a dangerous gleam in them."

"I'd like you to come sit in with our jazz ensemble. I've been doing some checking up on you – I know you play the cello, but I've heard you also study voice with Lt. Caldwell. It's not formal, we just play."

"Counselor Troi put you up to this," I accused. "Anyway, I'm really not a singer."

"One session, Zoe. It'll be fun."

"Okay," I said. "One session."

"Excellent." He grinned, and then looked at my plate. "Are you going to finish your fries?"

I laughed, and pushed my plate toward him. "Help yourself."

He did.

**(=A=)**

Just as I was finishing lunch with Commander Riker, my friend Ray Barnett – Ensign Ray Barnett – approached our table. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "Counselor Troi said to tell you I'm next."

I looked from the younger man to the older one. "Next?" I asked. "Next what? She's lined up babysitters for me all day?" I wasn't sure if I was frustrated, amused, or touched. Probably all three.

"Not babysitters," Will Riker said. "Companions. Mr. Barnett will be escorting you to the holodeck to meet your friends for… what is it, Ensign? Basket weaving?"

"Actually, I think Josh and Dana have a night-surfing program loaded, sir." He looked at me, and coaxed, "C'mon, Zo', you know you want to."

It finally clicked in my head that Data and the counselor had arranged to keep me occupied for several hours, probably to give me time to process and cool off. "When have I ever said no to surfing?" I asked, deciding to accept it all with as much grace as I could muster. "Thanks for lunch, Commander," I said. "And for the stories. I promise not to blackmail my mother with them."

"Just don't let her find out who told you," he teased.

I left the table, and Ray matched his typical long stride to my shorter one as we walked out of Ten-Forward and into the corridor, and then the turbo-lift. "Did they tell you _why_ I'm being handled so carefully?" I asked him.

"Only that you've got a stalker or something, and he made a move on you at Starbase 12. You're okay though, aren't you?"

"Mostly," I said. "I mean… physically I'm fine."

"Fine enough to give a friend a hug?"

"Totally fine enough for that." Our hug was warm, brief, and totally platonic. "So, I don't think I told you," I said, "I surfed Stinson Beach over the summer. I didn't see any sharks, though."

He laughed. "Not seeing sharks is a _good_ thing, Zoe." We entered the holodeck where Dana and Josh had already loaded the program. "But if you want to see some, the aquatics lab has a pair of Artridian grace sharks in one of the big tanks. We're ferrying them to Pacifica, for the captive breeding program there."

"Really?" I said. "I've always wanted to see one of those up close."

"I kinda figured," he said. "Go change," and he pushed me toward the cabanas on the holographic beach. "I want to see what you can do on a long board."

For the next couple of hours, the four of us surfed and swam and splashed, and the physical activity and easy camaraderie seemed to be just the tonic I needed. By the time we all collapsed, water-logged, on the moonlit sand, I was feeling much more like the person I'd been all summer, and less like a pawn or a victim.

I looked around at my two best friends and my sometime surf-buddy and smiled. "Guys, this is the best afternoon I could have imagined. Thank you."

Dana came over and hugged me. "Counselor Troi wasn't specific about what's going on with you, Zoe, but whatever it is, you know you're not alone, right?"

"Yeah," Josh said. "But don't think we're not looking forward to the story…when you can tell it."

I threw a wad of damp sand at him. "Brat," I teased.

He threw more sand back at me, "Wench," he teased back.

But we didn't let things escalate the way we normally would have.

Ray called us back into focus. "The three of you are all starting your junior year of high school, right?" he asked. We confirmed it with nods and smiles. "You want some advice from someone who's a little older, if not necessarily wiser?"

"Is this where you tell us to always pick option 'c' on multiple choice exams?" Josh asked.

Ray grinned. "Well, there's that. But what I was _going_ to say is this: junior year is the make-it-or-break-it-year. You're gonna be taking college boards – or at least prelims. Your classes are going to get intense, grades are going to count like they never have before. Whenever things start getting crazy, come back to this moment. To the three of you, and the friendship you have. Support each other."

I reached out for his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. None of us had expected him to be that serious. "Thanks, Ray."

"I mean it," he said, reaching out to give my hair a brotherly ruffle. "You're going to need each other."

We all murmured words to the effect that we'd do what he said.

"And you," he said looking at me. "I can tell that there are a lot of people watching out for you, and I'm not sure of all the details, but I get the impression it's pretty intense. You need to blow off steam, comm me, and we'll come here and surf it out. Deal?"

I met his eyes, and promised, "Deal."

We hung out for a while longer, and then Josh and Dana excused themselves to go home, and Ray said, "I've got instructions to escort you to Commander Data's quarters. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

I shook my head. "No, we're working on project together, is all, and I agreed to check in with him at regular intervals while my mother's still off-ship." It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely not-true, either. I went to change back into normal clothes, and we ended the surfing program. "I had fun," I said. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, Zoe. Any time you need to blow off steam… if I'm not on duty."

I hugged him again. "I know you meant it. You are an awesome friend."

"We shouldn't keep Commander Data waiting."

"No, I agreed, "we really shouldn't."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44676.08**

**(Monday, 4 September 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

Ray left me in the corridor outside Data's door, giving me a playful shove and reminding, "Comm me. Anytime, for anything."

"I just might hold you to that," I teased. After he'd walked off, I reached for the annunciator button, but the door opened before I could press it, and I stepped inside calling, "Data? Are you home?"

"I am here," came his voice from beyond his workstation. I walked all the way into his quarters, past my cello and the extra bag I'd packed earlier, and around the corner of his desk to find him on his knees peering under the couch. I'd never seen him in any position even close to this undignified, and I couldn't help staring.

_Do not ogle the ass of - perish that thought,_ I instructed myself, interrupting my own inner monologue. What I said was, "Did you lose something?"

"In a manner of speaking. I am attempting to convince Spot to come out from underneath the couch."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Why not just lift the couch?"

"The last time she engaged in this behavior, lifting the couch caused her to dart into the bedroom and lodge herself beneath the bed."

"And even you can't move a bed that's molded into the wall without doing serious damage," I observed.

"That is correct," he agreed.

"If you want to come out of this piss-poor attempt at _downward dog_ ," I offered, "I might be able to help you out."

I watched him unfold himself, surprised to learn how flexible his spine was not. Finally, he was standing before me, though his uniform was covered in cat hair.

"Tell the maid to vacuum under the furniture next time," I teased, reaching to brush him off. He looked at my hands on his shirt, as if unsure how to react to such a familiar gesture, but he neither objected nor stopped me. "I'm not used to seeing you anything other than completely neat and tidy," I said. "Now that you're cat-hair free, all's right with my world." It wasn't, of course, and we both knew it, but he chose not to object to that, either.

"You said you could help entice Spot to emerge from her hiding place," he reminded.

"And so I can. Sort of. There were two packages that I gave you. Have you opened them?" I didn't think he had, but I wasn't sure.

"I have not. I assumed you wished to witness the process. As well, we have both been distracted by other concerns."

I responded with a look and the request, "Could you get the softer of the two? And unwrap it now?"

He did so, carefully removing the paper wrapping – I wondered if I'd see it on a present for me at Christmas or my birthday – and setting it aside. Then he read the package, "'Organic, single-origin, catnip chews.' Zoe, you wish me to intoxicate my cat."

"No," I said. "I wish you to _bribe_ your cat. Or I'll bribe her if it offends your morality." I held out my hand and he shook a single chew into it. I sunk onto the floor, then, and peered under the couch, where Spot was cowering. "Hey, Catling," I cooed softly. "Got a tasty treat for you."

Unlike Data, I was almost on my belly, instead of my knees. Spot inched closer to the treat in my outstretched hand, until, when she was almost out from under the couch, I pulled my hand away. She slithered into the open, and jumped, landing on my back.

"Ow! Spot!"

I managed to toss the treat onto the couch, and she pounced onto it, smacking her little cat lips enthusiastically. I couldn't help myself: I started laughing.

"Zoe, are you alright?"

I rolled over. "I'm fine, Data, really." I raised my hand toward him. "Help me up?"

His hand enclosed mine, and he tugged slightly, just enough to help me assume a more vertical position. "Mission accomplished," I grinned. "Now you can buy me dinner."

He was staring at me, probably because I, too, was now covered in cat hair. "If you would like to 'freshen up' and change clothing," he suggested, "I will replicate our meal. As you know, there is nowhere on the _Enterprise_ where one can purchase food."

Holographic ocean water was still salty, and between that and the cat hair, I was probably in need of a little freshening. "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Can I ask a favor, though?"

"Of course, Zoe. What is it?"

"I noticed you have actual water fittings as well as sonics in your shower."

"It is a 'perk' allotted to senior officers," he confirmed. "The use of water is rationed, of course."

"Of course," I said. "Any chance you'd be willing to share your ration?"

"If you are asking to take a water-shower, then the answer is 'yes, you may,'" he said, avoiding my unintended double entendre and its possible implications.

"Yes! You are awesome. Thank you!" Impulsively, I kissed his cheek, and again, the stud in my tongue felt hotter. I yelped and backed away.

"Zoe?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, using the time to clear my head. Forcing a bright tone, I said, "Shower first, explanation as soon as I'm done. Do you eat eggplant? I'm kind of craving moussaka." I spun around and left him with his cat, locking the bedroom door once I was on the other side of it.

A water shower had never felt so good, and despite everything else going on, I found myself singing as I shampooed my hair.

_I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah_  
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now  
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now

I'd come home with sheet music for it, arranged as a string duet. I wondered if I could convince Data to play it with me.

I wrapped my damp hair in a towel while I put on fresh clothes – just a clean t-shirt and sweats – then unwrapped the towel and left it hanging in the bathroom. When I returned to the main room, I noticed that Data had set the table for dinner, including lit candles, and that the lights had been lowered.

"Do you have a date?" I asked, eyeing his preparations. His response was a sharp glance in my direction. "Wait, this is for me?" I asked.

"It is for _us,_ " he said, pulling my chair out and silently inviting me to sit. "I thought a more subdued atmosphere might help you feel less awkward about temporarily cohabitating with me." My hair brushed against him as I sat down, and he added, "Your hair is damp."

"I didn't bring a hair dryer, and didn't think you'd appreciate me rifling through your things to see if you owned one." He removed thermal covers from the food that was waiting, and I laughed when I realized what it was. "Vegetarian moussaka. Perfect. Please tell me we're splitting a single portion?"

"If that is amenable to you, yes. If not, I can replicate more, however, you have told me before that you would rather 'save the calories' for dessert."

I looked away from him for a long moment. "Yeah, usually. But you're probably not going to let me _have_ dessert after we talk – and we _have_ to talk."

He took his place opposite me, and served moussaka and the accompanying salad to both of us. "You saw Counselor Troi." It wasn't a question.

"And had lunch with Commander Riker, and then was delivered to the holodeck for an afternoon of sunless sand and surfing. If you ever decide to leave Starfleet you'd make an awesome event planner, but don't ever become a spy, because your special touch was evident every step of the way."

"It was not meant to be a secret." He ate a bite of moussaka, then continued, stating, "You are angry."

I shook my head. "I'm not, actually. Once I realized what was going on, I thought it was sweet." I took a breath. "Well, I'm not angry at you about _today_. Counselor Troi thinks it's important that I tell you that I _am_ angry with you about…" I gestured first to my mouth and then to the whole room around us. "…everything else."

"You blame me for what Lore has done."

I didn't want to answer, but he was the one person I couldn't lie to, ever. "Yeah. I do. I mean, you told me he wouldn't do anything, that I shouldn't worry that much. You told me that he wouldn't cause me any harm, but he did, and I don't just mean this stupid piercing." I put my fork down. "He's turned me into an accessory. I've lied to my parents. I'm being dishonest with my friends. And yeah, I blame you. But I blame me, too."

"You have done nothing wrong, Zoe." Data said, his voice soft, and intense – well, intense for him.

"Yeah, I have. I put you on a pedestal, and let myself believe you were a superhero, when the truth is you're not. You're amazing, and you have abilities that are uniquely yours… but really, you're just a person." I picked up my fork again, and began to eat. The moussaka was pretty good.

Data seemed to be at a loss for words, though his mouth had quirked up ever-so-slightly when I called him a person. I could tell he was thinking about what I'd said, and determining the best response.

When we'd finished our meal and he'd returned the dishes to the replicator, he didn't extinguish the candles. Instead, he brought them to the coffee table, where his remaining present was already waiting. "Please wait for me on the couch," he said.

"Okay." I said, confusion heavy in my tone.

I heard him order something else from the replicator, but couldn't tell what, and when he joined me, he was carrying a tray with tea and a single slice of chocolate cheesecake and my bracelet. "I would not deprive you of dessert merely for telling me the truth, Zoe."

I was more interested in the bracelet. "You tracked the signal?" I picked it up, smiling softly at the sound of the beads clicking together.

"I did. I also disabled the 'bug' so that it will no longer record or relay any information. I apologize for not returning your bracelet as soon as I had identified and removed the extra bead."

I shrugged. "It's okay. I was kind of awful to you this morning. Was that only this morning? Not having any kind of schedule and living with - well, here – has me discombobulated." I held out my left hand, the bracelet dangling from my fingers. "Help me put it on?"

He fastened it around my wrist, and I felt the slightest of tingles when his fingers brushed my skin. Then he reached for the package I'd brought from San Francisco. "Eat your dessert," he suggested, as he carefully peeled away the wrapping to reveal a white, glass, handle-less mug. "It is a cup."

"It is," I explained, between bites of chocolate cheesecake, "a United States Navy watch mug, with a certificate of authenticity tracing its use to the U.S.S. Enterprise in Earth's Second World War," I explained. "I chose it because the mugs were meant to keep sailor's hands warm when they were standing watch on submarine conning towers or exposed bridges, and that appealed to me. I also thought the clean lines and its origin might appeal to you."

"Thank you, Zoe," he said. "It is a very thoughtful gift."

"I wouldn't actually drink from it if I were you," I said.

"No," he agreed.

I'd finished the cake and the tea - he'd replicated a pot – was done steeping. I pushed down the plunger, pressing the water out of the tea leaves. "Are you having some?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, adding, "Thank you, Zoe," after I'd filled both our cups.

"Are you on duty tonight?" I asked.

"I am not."

"Any specific plans?"

"I have several projects I am working on, including the ongoing attempt to find Lore."

"You have the same entertainment system in here that everyone else does, don't you?"

"Yes." He sipped some of the tea. "Why?"

"I'm not tired enough to sleep, not in the mood to read, and while I probably _should_ actually play my cello sometime before my generous, kind, handsome theory tutor and duet partner decides to resume my lessons, tonight is not that night. I need... I need a dose of 'normal.' I was wondering if we could just watch a video. You can even pick it."

I was expecting him to politely decline. Instead, he engaged the system, and I saw a display monitor drop down from the ceiling. "I will trust your judgment," he said.

I chose a neo-noir crime drama with an intricate plot, though we picked it apart as we watched it. I had the mystery solved about half-way through, and I was fairly certain Data had done so within fifteen minutes, though he didn't reveal it.

As the credits began to roll, I looked over at him. "Data," I said softly, "we have to get the stud out of my tongue sooner rather than later, don't we?"

"It would be advisable," he agreed.

"Lore said _you_ had to be the one to remove it," I said.

"I am aware."

"I'm really scared," I confessed. "I'm afraid of him, and I'm afraid of what we're going to have to do to get this out of my mouth."

"If I were capable of feeling fear, Zoe," he shared, in a voice nearly as small as mine, "I believe I would be 'scared' as well."

I smiled. "That's oddly reassuring. Thanks for the day, and the evening. You are hereby released from entertainment duty; I'm going to bed." He rose first, taking the tea and dessert things to the replicator to be discarded, and I got up and stretched and headed toward the bedroom. I paused at the door, "G'night, Data." I said, "And thank you again."

He surprised me by stepping close to me and brushing stray hair away from my face. "Sleep well, Zoe. If you need to leave the door part-way open again, please do so." He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head, and the metal stud in my tongue warmed as it had twice before.

"I will," I said. I crawled into bed and was asleep almost before he'd dimmed the lights in the main room. As I drifted off, I heard him singing quietly. I loved the sound of his voice so much, I didn't even blush about the fact that he'd heard _me_ singing it in the shower.

_I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now  
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from "Bitter Sweet Symphony," which was written by Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Richard Ashcroft, and performed by The Verve. Their version, and the version by the Vitamin String Quartet have been added to the CRUSHING ON CELLO YouTube playlist Mugs like the one Zoe gave Data are a real thing, and were used in WWII and Korea. For purposes of this story, Will Riker is slightly older than Memory Alpha would have us believe.


	6. Brooding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The math tutorial reunites. Zoe broods about the data-solid in her tongue, and Data experiments with different ways to remove it. Success might change their friendship forever.

**Stardate 44679.83**

**(Wednesday, 6 September 2367, 03:23 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up in the middle of the night with Lore's voice whispering in my head, and the taste of his kiss on my lips. Oil and acid, I remembered, and sense memory made me feel like I was going to vomit. I raced for the bathroom, not bothering to turn on a light because I knew there would be no stray shoes, or tossed-aside books, or cast-off clothing to step over, on _that_ floor.

There was also no way to hide the sound of retching from my… host. Or was he my roommate? My dream-warped brain couldn't pin down a name for what Data was to me in this moment, though I very quickly discarded 'guardian,' but it didn't matter because his shadow fell over me. "Zoe," he asked. "Are you ill? Do you require Dr. Crusher's services?"

"Go away for a minute, please?" I begged, but he surprised me by staying. I was, in turns, annoyed, embarrassed, and grateful because he dropped to his knees beside me and smoothed my hair out of my face, holding it out of the way as I finished heaving into the toilet.  

They say it's your real friends who will hold your hair while you puke, but I'd always thought that meant best girlfriends.

After I'd sat back on my own knees, and had been still and silent for over a minute, Data asked, "Are you through?" in the same calm tone he would have used to ask me if I'd like a cup of tea.

"I think so," I said, I changed positions, sitting flat on the floor with my back against the bathroom wall. "You didn't have to come running," I said. "But thanks."

He chose not to respond to that directly, asking only, "May I get you anything?"

It crossed my mind to say no, but Data seemed to appreciate being useful. Or needed.  "Something to drink would be good," I said. "Something carbonated. Ginger ale?"

"I will meet you on the couch," he said. "Let me assist you." He extended both hands, reaching to help me to my feet, and I allowed it. Then he left me alone.

I waited until I heard the bedroom door swish closed, and then I used the toilet for a completely different purpose, washed my hands, splashed water on my face, and rinsed my mouth out. After the ginger ale, I'd be able to brush my teeth. Not before.

I hooked a sweatshirt from where I'd left it on the foot of the bed, and pulled it on over the t-shirt and sweats I'd been sleeping in. Then I padded out to the main room of Data's quarters, and curled up in my corner of his couch, tucking my feet under me. "Sorry about that," I said. "I'm not sick, really, it was just a really powerful nightmare."

"This is the second night your sleep has been interrupted in such a fashion," Data pointed out, joining me on the couch, and handing me the glass of ginger ale. There was condensation forming on the outside of the glass, and I looked around for a napkin, but he'd anticipated my need, and was already offering one. "If you cannot tell me what you are dreaming, will you tell the counselor? I do not wish to wake her, but we must address this."

"'We?'" I asked after a sip of the cold, fizzy drink. "They're _my_ dreams."

"That is true," he agreed. "But they are related to the incident with Lore, are they not?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound grouchy, and failing. "Yeah, they are."

"Zoe… I cannot help if you do not talk to me."

And there it was. I needed to talk to him, and I was afraid to at the same time. On the other hand, later that day was the first orientation session for the new school year, and I wanted to be done with dreams and fear before classes started for real on Monday. "Acid," I said softly. "I dreamed he was kissing me and it tasted like acid. Acid and motor oil."

I sensed rather than saw the internal 'click' of information connecting inside his positronic brain. "I do not wish to distress you further," he said, "but when Lore kissed you the first time, do you remember the same… flavor?"

I closed my eyes, and thought about it. Images immediately started playing in my head. Lore holding my hip, Lore holding my chin. Lore kissing me in the tiny hotel room at Starbase 416. I fidgeted on the couch. I didn't want to remember these things, but I could tell Data was so close to a discovery, that I had to.

I felt tears leaking out of my closed eyes.

"The first time," I said. "I don't remember acid. Just the taste of alcohol, but I don't know if it was his or mine."

"And the second?"

I opened my eyes, and met Data's gaze. "Acid. And oil, as I said. Mostly acid." I reached for his hand, and he met mine half-way, clasping my fingers with just enough pressure to be supportive. "When I kissed your cheek… the stud got warm." I said. "Both times. I didn't think… I didn't want to think…"

"Zoe." His tone was firm, but not sharp. "It is… alright," he said.

_No, it isn't_ , I protested silently. _It isn't all right. It's all wrong. Because I'm pretty sure we have to kiss to get this thing out of my tongue, and I don't want to ruin our friendship._

"Is it?" I asked aloud. "Because if you're thinking what I am…"

"Right now," he said, "I am considering several different sealing compounds that could be delivered orally, and I will need to conduct some experiments to determine which are the most likely. Anything beyond that would be premature." His words were calm, rational, based in science.

I was a little jealous of that emotional neutrality.

I wished I could trust that he was right.

I finished the glass of ginger ale. "I should try to sleep some more," I said. "It would be really bad if I fall asleep in orientation today. My math tutor is kind of strict." I slid my hand out of his, and unfolded myself from the couch. But I had to ask, "How do I do it, Data? In class with you tomorrow? How do I sit there and pretend the stud in my tongue is just a stupid teenage thing and has nothing to do with psychotic siblings playing games?"

He rose from his seat and followed me. "Perhaps it is a 'good thing' that you spent a portion of your summer in theatre training," he suggested. "Perhaps you can consider it an acting exercise."

"And if I fail? If I say the wrong thing, or…?"

"Have faith in your own strength and abilities, Zoe. As I do."

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that such a sentiment coming from him seemed perfectly reasonable and normal? I reached to hug him briefly, found solace in the contact, and then slipped into his bedroom, leaving the door open about a quarter of the way. "I'll try," I said, knowing he'd hear me.

_Do_ your _kisses taste like acid?_ I didn't ask.

But at least there were no more nightmares that night.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44680.59**

**(Wednesday, 6 September 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)**

I was in my usual seat in the middle of the conference table, with Dana and Annette flanking me. Josh and a new boy from Akkalla, Rryl, had the seats farthest from me, and Data, as usual, was sitting directly across the table. Except for the change in company, it was the same configuration we'd had for this math tutorial all last school year.

It was the worst possible configuration for me on that day.

You can't exchange confidences with your math tutor in a dimly lit room and then act like nothing has changed when you show up for class. You can't sit across a table and discuss math problems as if nothing has happened, when the man leading the discussion was the same person who held your hair after you puked the night before, and then held you while you cried.

Or at least, _I_ was finding it extremely difficult to do those things.

Data, on the other hand was… Data: apparently unaffected, unflappable, and unfazed.

Sometimes I envied him.

Fortunately, it was just an orientation day, and class was only thirty minutes, instead of the full two hours. Data went over the year's syllabus, ensured we'd all downloaded the textbook he'd selected, and assigned review homework to be completed by our first real class on Monday morning.

It wasn't the longest half-hour of my life, but at the time it felt that way. He dismissed us, and I began to leave with my friends but he called me back.

"Zoe, will you remain for a moment, please?"

I glanced at my friends, "See you at lunch, I guess?"

"We'll meet you at Ten-Forward," Annette promised. "Twelve-fifteen, like always."

"Make sure Rryl knows he's invited?" I said. Inclusion was a very big thing for me, and getting to know the new kid would be easier over lunch.

"We will," she said.

The door closed between us, leaving me alone with Data, who was waiting patiently for me to acknowledge him. "Okay," I said, turning back to him. "What horrible news do you have for me, now?"

"I do not believe my news would qualify as 'horrible.' I have identified several possible compounds that may work to unseal your… piercing. I will require your presence in order to test them."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Does it have to be _now_?"

"As you do not have another morning class, I assumed you would be available. If you are not…"

"I am…" I admitted, cutting him off.

"Then, if you wish to meet your friends for lunch, yes it must be now."

"Okay, so where are we doing this?"

"My laboratory."

I blinked at him. "You have your own laboratory? How did I not know you have a lab? Are you a mad scientist now?"

"I have always been a scientist, Zoe, but I do not believe I am 'mad.'" He waited a beat then asked, "Will you accompany me?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I? Lead me to your lair, Dr. Frankenstein."

We left the conference room together, as he said, "I believe I would be more analogous to Frankenstein's monster than the doctor himself."

"Naah. You're totally the wrong color, and don't have visible bolts at the base of your neck."

"Zoe…"

He led me into a turbolift, and down to one of the engineering decks, then out of it, and down a corridor, where he punched in a passcode faster than I could even watch.

"Just so you know, if any part of this involves me growing a hump, lisping, or calling you 'master,' I'm bailing." I said as the door opened. I looked around at consoles, worktables, and a couple of platforms enclosed in clear tubes large enough to hold a person standing upright. Realization dawned. "This is where you created Lal." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Are you ever going to try to… Fix her? Heal her? I don't even know what word to use…"

"The correct word would be 'repair,'" he said, coming to stand close to me in front of the platform. "I had considered attempting to do so, but I came to believe it would be a dishonor to her memory." I thought about asking what he'd done with her body, but doing so seemed both wrong and morbid. Data surprised me by placing a hand on my shoulder, and turning me to face him. "After Admiral Haftel left the _Enterprise_ , the captain authorized a memorial service for her. Her body was placed in a photon torpedo tube and commissioned to the heart of a sun."

"I wasn't going to ask." I said.

"The increase in your pulse rate suggests that you are uncomfortable in this room. I wished to reassure you that you would not stumble across any stray… parts."

"Not so much uncomfortable as nervous, Data," I said. "Or…  anxious…I guess. I mean, I know why we're here, and I'm kind of afraid it won't work."

"We will not know unless we try. Please have a seat. I will need to swab the stud in your mouth."

"You're supposed to tell me to open wide and say 'aahh,'" I teased, settling into one of the rolling chairs. "Be warned, I have a really over-active gag reflex."

"I will endeavor to keep that in mind."

An hour or so - and several swabs – later, we'd gotten nowhere. "Data, no offense, but, if you don't give me a break soon, I'm going to die of hunger and boredom and then it won't matter how you get this thing out of my tongue. You want me to come back here and resume lab-rat duties – I'll come without complaint – but I promised to meet my friends, and they're already worried about me."

"I have bridge duty until twenty-hundred hours," he said in response. "Thank you for your help, Zoe. I am sorry it was not more interesting for you, but you are not a lab-rat."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not exactly an active participant, either, Data. Anyway, it wasn't meant as criticism. I know you're doing everything you can, and I also know you're not the entertainment committee, okay? It would be better if you'd explain what you're doing as you're doing it, but when you get involved in something, you go into this quiet zone that's a really odd mix of compelling and eerie. Also, being in this room is kinda creeping me out."

I regretted the last sentence as soon as I uttered it.

"Is it because it reminds you of what I am? I _am_ an android Zoe; that will always be true."

"I know what you are," I said. "Haven't we had this conversation before? It's not what you are that creeps me out. It's… I feel kind of the same way I did when you showed me the inside of your arm, last spring. It's too close. It's too…"

"Intimate?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered sheepishly. "Knowing why you have this space, imagining what the creation of an android looks like. It's sort of like imagining you naked, but… not… but… " I cut myself off, and redirected the conversation. "Listen, do you mind if I go meet my friends now? And can we table the rest of this discussion until later tonight, at home?"

I blushed at my accidental reference to his quarters as home, but if he noticed, he said nothing. "You may go," he agreed.

"Am I supposed to meet you somewhere, or wait for you in my quarters or…?"

"I would prefer that you not be alone if you are in public spaces on the ship, and I do not believe your own quarters are safe as long as your piercing is still installed. Should you wish to return home –" I arched a brow at him and he amended his phrasing, "- to my quarters, the lock is programmed to recognize you."

"Since when?" I asked, and then I remembered a couple of nights before, when I'd returned from surfing and the door opened before he invited me in. "Oh," I said. "Never mind." I got out of the chair, and left the room, pausing at the door. "Hey, Data… will you have dinner with me, when you're off-duty?"

"I would be glad to, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

Lunch turned out to be less 'get to know the new kid,' and more 'grill Zoe on where she's been all week,' but I managed to vague it up enough to satisfy my friends as we laughed through plates of fish tacos and pitchers of iced tea.

"So, the thing is," I explained, "I kind of had a stalker in San Francisco, and it's got me a little freaked out. With my mother still off-ship, Data's been kind of keeping an eye on me. Well, Data and Counselor Troi. It's kind of like being grounded, in a way. I mean, my mother doesn't make me check in as often as Data does." I wasn't being entirely truthful, but I wasn't really lying either."

"Is this normal?" Rryl asked. "For teachers to socialize with students?"

"It's not not-normal," Josh said. "Especially with teachers like Data and the Prof, who volunteer their time."

"Data's more properly 'Lieutenant Commander Data,'" Annette explained. "He's the second officer of the ship."

"Yeah," Dana added, "And Zoe's his favorite."

"Guys, that's not true," I protested. "Rryl, Data's an android. He can't actually _have_ favorites. We do spend a lot of time together, though, because he's also tutoring me in music theory and coaching me in technique."

"Technique," Josh teased, "ooh, Zoe, what kind of _technique_ do you get coached in?"

I was sorely tempted to throw my taco at him, but it was so good to be eating crunchy food, that I gave him my very best glare instead. "Josh, dear, I will remember this the next time you need someone to proof an essay and Dana isn't around. You know perfectly well, he's only coaching me in cello."

"So, is that why you haven't been at home the last few days?" Dana asked. "We went by your place this morning, and no one answered."

"I've kind of had to do a lot of check-ins," I said. "And then Dr. Crusher has been supervising the aftercare for my piercing."

"Piercing?" I'd forgotten that Josh hadn't seen it yet. "What piercing. Zoe, did you get a navel ring?"

"Nope," I said. "Better." I took a swig of iced tea to make sure my mouth was relatively free of grossness, then stuck my tongue out at him.

Rryl also took a look. "On Akkalla," he said, "piercings like that are thought to enhance certain private activities between lovers."

I blushed, suddenly very glad Data was on bridge duty and nowhere near the lounge. "I'd never thought of that," I said. "For humans, it's more a fashion statement than anything else."

"I have this sudden image of the junior-year language and lit class getting assignment to write an essay on the history of body piercing in a chosen culture," Annette said. "I almost wish I was in your year, so I could read the results"

We all laughed, and then I turned to Rryl. "Akkalla's a water-world, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "We do have landmasses, but they are mostly islands, and everyone lives a life connected to the ocean."

Josh and I glanced at each other, and then asked him in tandem, "So, do you surf?"

It turned out that he did.

**(=A=)**

While it was technically true that I wasn't scheduled for any classes that afternoon, I did make it a point to check in with Lt. Caldwell to see when – or if – we were resuming my voice lessons. She wasn't merely willing to continue coaching me, but rather, she was excited about it. We agreed on a schedule and a focus on performance and voice care – how to preserve your singing voice when you were doing multiple performances a week.

"I have a feeling this is stuff you're going to need to know, Zoe," she told me.

"Wow, I spend one summer doing arts camps and suddenly everyone thinks I'm going to be a star," I teased.

"Not a star, necessarily," she said. "But definitely a competent professional, if it's what you want." We were in one of the music rooms on the same 'rec deck' as the smallest holodeck. It, too, was fitted with holographic emitters, but only so that the user of the space could specify the available instruments or technology. That day, it was a piano with a bench, a stool, and, in the corner, a comfortable couch, which is where we were sitting.

"I wish I knew what I wanted," I said. "All my life I thought I was going to just do music, go to the Martian like my father, and make a career as a classical musician. This last year, things have been changing."

"That's very normal, Zoe, even for people as focused as you have been."

"You could have had a career," I pointed out. "You _had_ a successful start as a child performer. What made you give up that life and choose Starfleet instead?"

"I've always loved science, and I've always wanted to be an explorer," she said. "I realized that I didn't want to be one of those touring musicians who only ever sees the insides of hotel rooms between gigs, and…Starfleet also gave me a sense of family." She paused. "The life of a performer is a hard one, Zoe. You're always auditioning for the next thing, competing for every job you get. There's competition out here in space, too, but it's not the same."

"That makes sense, I guess." I said.

"You're not considering applying to the Academy?" Like every other officer, she pronounced it with a capital 'a.'

"What? Me? Perish the thought," I said. "No, I'm…I'm just…gathering information." I got up to leave. "Thanks for the talk, I'll see you Monday afternoon."

She walked me to the door, "Anytime you want to meet, just comm me," she said. "And Zoe…don't you think it's time you used my first name?"

"Sure," I said. "Thanks, Jessie."

Her laughter was musical, of course, bubbling out of her like a pitch-perfect waterfall of sound.

**(=A=)**

I left the studio, unsure of what to do next. Annette was meeting with the head of the ship's school to ensure that she was still on track for graduating in the spring. Josh and Dana _did_ have an afternoon orientation. Rryl was watching his younger sister for a couple of hours, and anyway, I barely knew him. I felt betwixt and between, and a little paranoid. Data had said I shouldn't be alone, but my usual haunts – the aquatics lab, the observation lounge where I used to have music lessons with Seth, the ship's library – weren't at all appealing.

I rounded a curve, stepped into a turbolift, and ran into Guinan. "You look like a young woman with a dilemma," she said.

"More than one," I agreed. "Some more immediate than others."

"Well," she said, "I was about to go back to my cabin to have a cup of tea. I think the company of a person such as yourself might enhance the experience. Would you like to join me?"

_Tea with Guinan? Definitely._ "Yes," I said. "Thank you."

She told the turbolift to resume its journey, and we got out on another part of deck ten, walked a significant way down the corridor, and then stopped at her door. "Welcome, Zoe," she said as we entered.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Guinan's space felt like stepping into a warm embrace. Candles were glowing everywhere. It crossed my mind to wonder how she got away with leaving them lit, but it didn't seem terribly important. Instead of a couch she had a pair of papa-san chairs, and the doorway to the bedroom was hidden behind a folding screen. "Wow," I said.

"Do you like my home?" the enigmatic older woman asked.

"I had no idea you could make a starship cabin look so… unstarshippy." I said. "It's amazing."

"Thank you. Have a seat." She gestured to one of the two chairs near the window, and I folded myself into one of them. "You look like an herbal tea sort of person. Mint, I think?"

"Am I that obvious, or do you track orders in Ten-Forward?"

"Mint is a stimulant, and you don't like to feel bored or useless. It makes sense."

"I guess."

"I see you still have your piercing." She was prepping cups and boiling water on a hot-pad while she spoke. "Your mother will be home in two days, won't she?"

"I do," I confirmed, "and she will. Data and I spent a good chunk of the morning trying different compounds to unseal it." I could feel her dark eyes on me. "Well, Data was trying different compounds. I was pretty much just his lab-rat. Although… watching him work when he's really focused on a puzzle? That was sort of intense."

"You're good for him," was Guinan's response.

"Am I?" I said. "Sometimes it feels like we have this deep connection that defies time and space, and sometimes it's like I'm just one more task he has to complete."

"No," she said. "You're not a task."

"No," I agreed. "I guess you're right. But I'm not anything else either. I'm just his student." I imbued the word 'student' with all the frustration I felt at the whole situation with Lore, with the thing in my mouth.

"I'm pretty sure Data doesn't think you're 'just' anything. Just like I'm pretty sure you don't see him as 'just' an android."

"He isn't. He never has been. He's… himself."

"Does he know that you love him?"

Trust Guinan to ask me that, point blank. I fumbled for an answer, finally allowing, "I might have a crush on him, but, that's all. Anyway, even that doesn't matter. There's too much in the way. And job-one is getting this out of my tongue."

She shook her head. "No. You definitely love him. Here, drink this."

She pressed a mug into my hands, and I took it, and sipped carefully. "This isn't mint," I said. "I mean…" and I had another sip, "…it's got mint in it. But also… carob, I think. And maybe cocoa?"

"You've got a discerning palate. It's a children's tea, but I think it's important for adults to drink it from time to time."

"It's really good," I said. I waited a beat, watched her settle into the chair opposite mine. "It doesn't matter if I love him or not. Or it won't."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, first, he doesn't have feelings… and second… I'm pretty sure that in order to get this out, we're going to have to cross a line in teacher-student behavior that will ruin everything."

"You mean, you have to kiss."

I stared at her. "How did you know?"

"I know a lot about a few things, and a little about many," was her cryptic response. "I know you don't really believe that Data has no feelings whatsoever. I know, as you do, Zoe, that Data's emotions are subtle, but very much present, if you know how to look. If you take the time to see him, as you have."

"I'm still learning to see him," I said.

"Exactly, you're a student. So is he."

" _Data_ is?"

"The best of us never stop being students," she said. "Data is a student of the human condition."

"Yeah, but there are students and… _students_." I said.

"True enough. But the choice of which one you are is yours."

"Is this supposed to be helping?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I guess…" I said slowly, putting my thoughts in careful order. "I guess it is. I mean… yeah, I love him. It's not romantic love, exactly. It's… it's like he's family, but soul-deep. And maybe one day, it _could_ be more."

"I suspect it will be."

"Everyone keeps telling me that. Do you all tell him the same thing?"

"I don't know about 'everyone.' I only know about me. I tell him the same thing: that you and he are good for each other, that you and he are connected, and that you both have to learn to trust that connection."

"Does he know… what we really have to do?"

"Do you think he does?"

"I think he's trying to protect me, as much as he can. I think he's as uncertain as I am, about what happens when we…" I made a gesture. I couldn't say the words _when we inevitably kiss_.

"I agree."

I drank more of the tea, becoming more and more certain there was some secret ingredient I wasn't able to identify. It was really good tea, though.

"Guinan, how _do_ you know that we have to kiss?" I asked. "I mean… how did you figure it out?"

She canted her head slightly to one side in a gesture reminiscent of the man we'd been discussing. "It wouldn't have been put in your mouth, otherwise," she said.

"I'm afraid of losing my friend," I told her. "I'm afraid it will ruin what we already have, and close the door on… more."

"Don't be. Trust Data. Trust yourself." For a moment, it was as though she were listening to the universe. I'm pretty sure it was speaking to her. "You're going to go through a period of disconnect," she said. "But it won't be complete and it won't be permanent." Her eyes refocused on me. "Drink up," she said. "I have a feeling you've got a very busy evening ahead of you."

I drained the mug. We talked for a few minutes longer, about my summer, mostly, and then she politely shooed me away.

"Thank you for the tea," I said. "And the conversation."

"You're welcome," she said.

I got the feeling she meant it in many more ways than I was capable of even counting.

**(=A=)**

When I returned to Data's quarters, I found a message tag with the reminder that he'd be home at twenty-hundred hours, and a request to feed Spot at eighteen-thirty if I was back by then. I didn't have homework – except math, which I wasn't ready to face – and I was feeling anxious and tired.

What I really needed was a nap.

A nap and a shower.

Crawling into Data's bed when he wasn't there felt a little like taking a liberty I hadn't earned, but since he'd requested that I not go home alone, and since the couch just wasn't that comfortable, I set an alarm, and wrapped myself in the quilt I'd brought with me from my own room.

I didn't have nightmares, but Guinan's advice and Lore's taunts circled in my brain, forming patterns and clues, and when I woke up two hours later to Spot purring near my ear, I was certain of two things: a kiss _was_ what Lore had planned all along, and Spot was _never_ going to leave my hair alone.

**(=A=)**

Showered (with dry hair thanks to the hair dryer I'd found waiting in the bathroom) dressed in fresh jeans and a blouse rather than a t-shirt, I set Data's table for dinner. Nothing fancy: a casserole of zucchini, cashews and a yogurt sauce that was a favorite of my mother's, and had been added to the vast collection of replicator fare available on the _Enterprise._ It was comfort-food, but not kid-food.

I didn't light candles, but I did have the lights slightly dimmed when Data arrived from his shift on the bridge, though I didn't hear him enter because I was curled up on the couch with music playing into headphones as I did my best to escape into a novel – an historical epic that took place partly during the French revolution and partly about three hundred years later, and involved a search for some mystical chess board. I would probably have enjoyed it more if I actually played chess, but the characters were interesting.

His hand on my shoulder shook me from my reading. "Oh," I said, stopping the music and pulling the headphones out of my ears. "Hi, Data. Dinner's ready when you are. It's a family recipe." I set a bookmark to save my place and switched off my padd. "I fed Spot, but I didn't clean her litter box because I wasn't sure where to… put stuff."

"I will take care of it later," he said. "Are you ready to eat?" He seemed oddly stiff, even for him.

"Sure," I said. I stood up and slid my feet into my shoes, but I didn't move toward the table. Instead, I reached out and touched his arm. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You did not." He glanced at my hand on his arm, and I saw him note the presence of my bracelet. "You may be interested to know that a representative of the Keep Earth Human League confirmed that the organization contracted with a third party to set and detonate the bombs at Starbase Twelve," he said.

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?"

"It will be on all the news nets in the next day or so."

"Is Lore the one they hired? Because you have to admit, there's some delicious irony in an android setting a bomb on behalf of an organization that wants to make Earth a humans-only club."

"That part of the investigation is not yet closed."

"Oh." I felt antsy and unsettled. I wondered if he could tell.

"Zoe, you seem agitated this evening. What can I do to help you?"

"A slug of whiskey wouldn't hurt," I said, causing him to look sharply at me. "Or, failing that, any kind of decent vodka. Not the kind that's infused with flavors, though. Those are too weird." I was kidding. Mostly.

"Is there some reason you require an alcoholic beverage?"

"It would be relaxing," I said. "I guess I'm 'agitated' because I know that no matter how many compounds you tested this morning, and no matter how many more you test tonight, there's only one way we're getting this stud out of my mouth."

"That is not certain," he corrected me. "It is possible that I may find another solution. Dr. Crusher could also surgically remove the…" He trailed off in response to the look I was giving him. "That is not my preferred option."

"Data, the stud got warm when I kissed your cheek. It got warm when you kissed the top of my head. Nothing you stuck in my mouth on the end of a cotton swab did anything this morning, and I'm pretty sure at least some of those swabs had more than a trace of your saliva on them – thanks for not telling me, by the way - I know you've probably got a gazillion other things to try, but all the clues are there. I've been going over and over it in my head, and I had a very helpful conversation with Guinan earlier, and she agrees."

"With Guinan?" his expression was both interested and intense.

I nodded, then repeated, "Everything he said, everything he did. He said he had the first and second _taste_. He said to make sure _you_ removed it. He referenced that conversation about intimacy on purpose. And Guinan said he wouldn't have put it where he did if we weren't supposed to…" I trailed off, embarrassed.

"Kiss," he said.

"Yeah."

"I had reached the same conclusion," he admitted.

"When?"

"Approximately seventeen point six seconds after you told me everything that had happened." Only an android would consider time down to the decimal an approximation.

"You might have told me."

"I did not wish to make you uncomfortable."

"Data, there are a _lot_ of things about this whole situation that have made me uncomfortable. Trust me, the thought of kissing you doesn't even make the top fifty."

"I am not entirely certain it will work, Zoe. I _am_ certain that there must be another way."

I thought about pushing the issue, but I was sure it would only make things more awkward between us. "Fine," I said. "You're in charge. Can we eat now?"

He seemed taken aback by my sudden change in mood and topic. "That would be acceptable."

We had a tacit understanding that dinner conversation would be restricted to light topics. I told him about my meeting with Lt. Caldwell and our plan for my voice lessons for the next year.

"I have never heard you sing," he observed. "Other than the occasional line or two when you are attempting to tease me."

"Or when I was in the shower the other day," I corrected him.

"Were you not attempting to tease me, then?"

I snorted. "Hardly. I was just relaxed and the song was stuck in my head. And, Data, when I tease you – and it's not 'attempting;' I really _am_ teasing you - there's no doubt of what I'm doing. You don't react every often, though." I took a beat and returned to the original topic. "Anyway, you knew I was taking lessons; I just assumed you weren't interested. Next time you're desperate for entertainment, just ask." I lowered my eyes to my plate, adding softly. "It's only fair; you've sung for me."

"I will do so."

We finished our meal and while he returned the dishes to the replicator I went to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth. He was on the couch when I returned to the main room. "You're not working tonight?"

"I assumed you would prefer to watch something before bed. I will work afterward."

"I don't like that I'm keeping you from your normal schedule."

"You are not," he said. "However, tonight it is my turn to 'pick the movie.'"

I laughed, and went to join him on the couch. "So, what are we seeing tonight?"

He had selected a vintage – mid twentieth century -- film called _Casablanca_. "Captain Picard recommended this to me several years ago," he explained. "He said it was something one should watch 'with a friend.'"

We skipped tea that night. Halfway through the story, I stopped paying attention to the actors on the screen and started watching Data, at the way his eyes widened ever so slightly from time to time, and at the way he leaned forward a little bit during key parts of the plot. When it was over, just before midnight, I got up, intending to go to bed, but he was right behind me.

"Zoe," he began, and then stopped.

I turned to face him, and my breath caught as I realized just how close he was standing. _Do your kisses taste like acid?_ I didn't ask. What I said was, "I have to know."

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask what I was talking about, and I took advantage of that brief hesitation, put my hands on his shoulders, and kissed him.

I expected him to push me away.

He didn't.

I expected a flood of bitter acid.

It never came. Instead I tasted faint sweetness and a hint of cashew.

There was a split-second delay and then his mouth moved against mine.

I felt his hand go to my waist, felt the gentle pressure that could have pushed or pulled, but instead just rested there, making contact.

There was a burst of heat inside my mouth, and then a sort of click that I felt more than heard. The ball at the bottom of the barbell in my tongue released. I backed away, put my hands to my mouth, and pulled the stud out. Data was staring at me, but not saying anything.

Inexplicably, I started to cry, but I handed him the stud before I completely lost control. "Data, I'm sorry," I said. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry." I pressed his fingers closed around the cylinder of metal.

I heard him call my name, heard him tell me to wait, but all I could think was that I _had_ to get out of there. I turned on my heel and ran out of his quarters, and toward the closest bank of turbo-lifts. A car arrived just as I did, and I got in, giving the deck number for the aquatics lab.

The cool blue-lit space was empty, save for the various animals in their tanks. I found the bench that had been placed in front of the Artridian grace sharks and collapsed onto it. As the shadowy lace-finned fish swam circles in their glass enclosure, I let my tears fall freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jessie Caldwell isn't a canon character, but she's mentioned a couple of times in "Crush." My version of Guinan's quarters is based partly on the couple of times we glimpse them on-screen, and partly on my own notion of what her taste might be. Rryl's homeworld, Akkalla is from the TOS novel Deep Domain by Howard Weinstein. Special thanks to Javanyet for help given months ago with a specific part of this chapter.


	7. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data and Zoe talk about their kiss, and settle a few more things about their friendship.

**Confessions**

**Stardate 44682.40**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 01:52 hours, ship's time)**

The thing about sharks is, they're perfectly content to let you cry your salty tears outside their tank, but they're not exactly great at giving pep-talks. So, after I had cried enough, I sat for a while and just watched them turning in their endless, gentle circles.

Well, I didn't _just_ watch the grace sharks. I also let the conversations I'd had – with Data, with Counselor Troi, and with Guinan – form their own circles inside my head. _Trust yourself_ , Guinan had said. _Trust Data._ Counselor Troi's advice had been much the same. _Data needs you right now, as much as you need him_ , she'd told me. On the other hand, she also believed I should just tell him how I felt.

My own thoughts were also turning circles. _Be careful what you wish for, Zoe,_ I said to myself. _You may get it, but you won't get it the way you wanted to._

Data would come find me if I waited long enough, I knew, but I didn't want to be the girl who had to have some guy come rescue her. It wasn't like we were going to fall into each other's arms, exchange smoochies, and live happily ever after, anyway.

I left the aquatics lab and marched… well, walked purposefully… back to the turbolift and Data's quarters. His door opened for me, and I nearly ran into him as I stepped inside.

"Zoe," he greeted me, with more weight in the two syllables of my name than I'd ever heard before. "I was not certain you would return."

"Neither was I," I admitted. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I was on my way to the aquatics lab to find you."

"Oh."

"I believe my next line should be 'we need to talk,'" he said.

"If you're going to tell me that I crossed a line, and that I shouldn't have kissed you when you'd already said you preferred to find another method of removing that stud – never mind that it _worked_ – you should know that I'm sorry if I destroyed our friendship, and I'm sorry I didn't let you do things your way, but I'm _not_ sorry for what I did."

"Zoe –"

But I wasn't done. "Ever since February, ever since Lore kissed me the first time, I've had this _awareness_ of you burning in my brain, but even before that everyone was telling me my friendship with you is real and rare and something special, and that no one would be surprised if it evolved into something deeper someday. I don't know if that's true, or if I just want to believe it is, but I _do_ know that I _hate_ your brother. I _hate_ him for playing games with you, and I _hate_ him for maybe causing the deaths of a lot of people, and I _hate_ him for sticking that thing in my mouth and cheating me – cheating _us_ – out of what should have been a tender and special moment, albeit one far in the future."

I was crying again before I finished my speech, but it wasn't the same kind of crying that had happened right after we kissed. That had been shock, I think. The tears that came with my… well, rant, really… represented all the pent-up emotions from the last several days finally finding release.

Data arms came around me with no stiffness at all, and he let me bury my face in his chest and cry myself out while his gentle hands traced soothing circles on my back. When I was calm again, I lifted my head and pushed against his embrace, stepping back just far enough to look into his face.

He ducked his head slightly, meeting my eyes. "Are you… feeling better?"

"Never underestimate the cleansing properties of a really good sob-session," I said. "I hadn't planned a meltdown for today."

"Perhaps you were simply due for one," he suggested. "It has been an eventful week for you, and a challenging time for us both. If we are to continue our… friendship… you must learn not to 'bottle up' your feelings."

"Are we?" I asked. "Going to continue our friendship?"

He led me to his couch, waited for me to settle into my corner, and then stepped away to replicate two mugs of tea. "It is chamomile," he said, handing me one of them, and sitting down himself. "You have not destroyed anything, Zoe. You certainly have not destroyed our friendship."

"Haven't I?"

"You have _not_ ," he reiterated, putting force behind the words. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he must have learned to use his voice that way for command situations. "You were not the only participant in that kiss," he said. "I did not stop you."

"I didn't leave you much choice," I countered, wrapping my hands around the mug of steaming liquid.

His eyebrows wrinkled slightly, his head tilted, and his 'teaching' expression took over his face. "Have you forgotten I am an android? I could have pushed you away quite easily."

I sipped some of the tea using the time to replay everything that had happened. "You kissed me back," I said after I'd swallowed some of the calming brew.

"Yes."

"You put your hand on my waist," I added.

"Yes," he said again.

"Okay, can I just mention that it's really weird when _you_ go all monosyllabic? That's supposed to be _my_ bit."

"Yes," he said a third time, but I saw the corners of his mouth lift ever-so-slightly. He waited for the hint of a smile to appear on my own face, then continued, completely serious once again, "After you removed the stud, you began to cry. I called your name, and asked you to wait, but you did not."

"I was scared."

"Of me?" I could tell that he disliked that notion.

I shifted my mug to one hand and reached for his free hand with the other. It didn't feel any different than any other time I'd touched him. Shouldn't it have?

"Never," I said. "I could _never_ be afraid of you. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me again, afraid you'd send me back to Mom's empty cabin for the next two nights, afraid someone would misinterpret what happened and take you apart, afraid I'd never get another chance to kiss you – maybe forget that last bit?"

I began to slide my hand away but he recaptured it. "I did not mean to make you cry," he said. "It… I should not have let things continue."

"Why did you?" I asked, staring at our clasped hands. "Didn't you tell me once that you had an ethics program? Shouldn't it have been screaming in some kind of digital distress?"

"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left," he said softly. "It revealed no errors or malfunctions. I can only conclude that a kiss meant as a means to an end was not a breach of my programming, even if removing the data solid from your tongue was only part of your motivation."

"I was curious," I admitted. "That was a good part of it. I wanted to know if kissing you would be different."

"Because I am an android?"

"You really need to move past your androidy-ness," I teased lightly. "I wanted to know if kissing you was different than kissing – well, being kissed _by_ – Lore."

"Was it?" I couldn't tell if he was asking as a man or as a scientist. Probably it was a bit of both.

"Only in about a thousand ways, none of which I really want to go into…  he's made me into him, in a way. You can't have wanted to –"

He stopped me with a look. "It is possible," he said softly, "that I wished to test your theory. It is also possible," he added, "that I was 'curious,' as well."

I resisted the urge to ask him how many times _he'd_ kissed Lore. "So, what happens now? Should I pack my stuff and go home? Do I have to worry that the relationship police will come and kidnap you and turn you into so many bits and pieces?"

"No one will 'take me apart,'" he said. "Please do not let that concern you. As to your sleeping arrangements, I still believe you are better off where I can watch over you, if only to render assistance should you have another nightmare. However, if you are uncomfortable staying here –"

"I'm not," I said, before he could finish. "I _was_ for the first day, but after that… being here…" I shrugged. "It's been okay. Actually, you’ve made me feel really comfortable."

"Then, as you have finished your tea, and as it is now quite late, I believe you should go to bed."

I'd already been trying not to yawn, and as soon as he suggested bed, I started to yawn. Then I blushed, embarrassed that he'd realized how tired I was before I had. "I believe you're right," I said, imitating his tone. He released my hand, and I leaned over and kissed his cheek the same way I had days before when things between us had been a lot better defined. "G'night, Data," I said, getting up and heading off to wash up and change before going to sleep.

"Good night, Zoe," came his response through the mostly-closed bedroom door. "Pleasant dreams."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44683.39**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 10:35 hours, ship's time)**

On a starship, there's never light streaming through the window to tell you that you've seriously overslept. There's only stars and blackness and more stars.  I don't know if I forgot to set an alarm or if Data chose to let me sleep for as long as possible since – for once – nightmares didn't wake me up, but I was pretty sure I'd slept later than usual.

Drowsily, and somewhat reluctantly, I dislodged Spot, who had taken to sleeping on the pillow next to my head, and left the bedroom to retrieve pre-shower coffee. I'd expected the place to be empty, or, if Data wasn't on duty, for him to be working at his console, but I managed to miss the murmur of two voices, and walked into the middle of a deep, relatively quiet, conversation between him and Geordi LaForge.

I couldn't tell what they were saying, entirely, but I heard words like _Lore_ , _chip_ , and _Terlina_ _III,_ and _Maddox._ "I'm sorry," I said when Data paused the conversation and looked up to greet me. "I didn't know… I mean, I didn't mean to interrupt… I mean..." Geordi was staring at me, and I suddenly realized how my presence in Data's bedroom, in pajamas, must look to him. "I just wanted coffee," I said finally. "It can wait, though," I said, and then, before I turned away, I added, "I'm really sorry."

Their voices overlapped, with Geordi asking incredulously, "Zoe? Data, she's living with you?" while our host assured me that I had not interrupted.

"We did not mean to wake you," the android added. "I hoped you would sleep longer. You did not get to bed until nearly zero four hundred hours."

"It's past ten-thirty," I pointed out. "I'm pretty nocturnal, but I'm not actually a vampire." I turned to address Geordi. "Good morning, Commander LaForge," I said. "I'm guessing from your reaction that you were not in the loop on my current living situation?"

"Understatement of the year," he said, glancing from Data to me and then back. "Data," he said, "tell me you and Zoe aren't…"

"Living in sin, shacking up, playing house?" I offered, imitating my android friend's habit of reeling off synonyms. If I wasn't getting coffee, I could at least have a little fun.

"Something like that," the engineer said.

"Zoe has been staying here as a protective measure," Data said, before I could add anything else. "Her mother is due back on the ship late tomorrow, at which time she will return to her usual quarters."

I could see Geordi taking in that information, rolling it over in his mind, and accepting it. "Okay," he said slowly. "I guess it makes sense, considering. But you have to admit it looks a bit strange."

"I believe that Zoe has kept her presence here reasonably discreet," Data responded to his friend.

"Zoe is standing right here," I sing-songed, because they'd obviously forgotten about me. "And she is desperate for coffee and a bagel. Can I get anything for either of you?"

"Actually, coffee would be great," Geordi said. "If you don't mind company at breakfast? Shouldn't you be in classes?"

"It's orientation week. Ed's off-ship with my mother, and I have nothing else in the morning, although Ms. Phelps did ask to see me before the end of the day. Not that this is at all relevant to either of you." I busied myself replicating two coffees and a pitcher of cream, "Commander LaForge, do you need sugar?" I called out.

"Yes, thanks," he answered. "And since when do you call me anything but 'Geordi?'"

"Since however long ago it was that I walked out here," I said.

"Seven minutes, thirty-three point four seconds," Data supplied helpfully. "Zoe, please ensure that whatever you eat this morning contains at least a few nutritional elements."

"Data, you're starting to sound like her," Geordi observed, chuckling.

Unseen by either of them I rolled my eyes. I also ordered a ham and cheese omelet and a side of hash browns to go with my bagel, and while it was a little awkward at first, Geordi and I settled into pleasant breakfast table conversation, while Data remained at his workstation.

"You're, what, a sophomore this year?" the engineer asked me, while eyeing my bagel.

"Here," I said, giving him half of it. "Bagels were meant to be shared. And no, I'm starting my junior year, which means I'm already getting inundated with college brochures, and we haven't even taken our college boards, yet."

"I know you're _not_ considering the Academy," he teased, "so where are you thinking. I can't imagine anyone from this ship is academically weak…"

"The truth?" I asked, and when he nodded, I told him (between bites of breakfast), "I always thought I was going to audition for The Martian, like Dad, but lately I've been thinking it might be smart to go to a more… academically inclined… institution that still has a good arts program. Mom's parents are both Yale graduates, and my stepmother's brother is a Harvard grad, so I'm considering both of those. Yale has a better drama department though."

"You're not planning to major in music?"

"I might, I might not. I have a long time before I have to decide that, and honestly? I know enough musicians who did nothing else all through their higher education years, and while they play like gods, you can't hold a conversation with them. I don't want to be that… limited."

It was difficult to tell through his visor, but the cant of his head and the pitch of his voice told me the look I'd just received had been an appraising one. "Somehow, Zoe, I doubt that will ever be the case with you."

"I hope not," I said, as I stabbed the last few bites of potato. "I _really_ hope not." Breakfast finished, I got up and returned my plate and mug to the replicator. "I'm going to go change and get out of your way," I said, addressing Data, that time. "See you for dinner?"

"I will be home by twenty-hundred hours," came his response. "Do not forget your comm-badge when you leave."

I flashed him a grin then disappeared into his bedroom, locking the door behind me.

**(=A=)**

"Stick out your tongue," the doctor told me. As she had before, she grabbed the tip with forceps, and examined it with her eyes and with a medical tricorder. "Well, Zoe, you have three choices. If the puncture is bothering you, I can heal this with a dermal regenerator, although it's perfectly fine to let it heal naturally."

"That's two choices," I said. "What's behind door number three?"

"If you want to, you could put a new stud in. One that doesn't contain a secret message."

"You'd do that? Aren't you bound by some parental oath?"

"I'm not your parent," she pointed out. "And it would save you from having to explain how you got it out, but the holes from piercings close quickly; you don't have much time to decide."

I thought about it. "Part of me wants to," I said, "just to freak Mom out – because annoying your parents is always a really wise basis for a decision, right?" She gave me the grin I'd hoped for. "If I were to put a new stud in, would it be easily removable. I mean…"

"No wacky android sealants," she promised. "Just normal threaded barbells."

"Do they come in purple?" I asked.

"We can replicate one in any color you want."

"Can it be a little shorter, though? The original… it kept clicking against my teeth."

"Purple, shorter…  we can do that."

I thought about Guinan telling me I wasn't likely to keep the piercing, but I also thought about the fact that I was sixteen, and I was due for a little healthy rebellion. "Let's do it," I said. "Please."

Doctor Crusher moved toward the replicator and had it create a surgical-grade tongue stud in my preferred color. Less than ten minutes later, I left with new jewelry installed. "Do I need to remind you about paying attention to washing out your mouth for the next several weeks?"

"No," I said. "I know the drill. Thank you."

I was almost out the door, when she stopped me with a final question, "Zoe, how did you get the other one out?"

"You'll have to ask Data," I told her. "I'm not exactly sure what finally worked." It wasn't the truth, exactly, but it wasn't really a lie, either, since I wasn't sure _why_ kissing him had released the stud, only that it had.

"I'll do that," she said. "Now, scoot."

Laughing, I dashed out the doors, across the corridor to the turbolift, and down two decks to the school administrator's office, where Ms. Phelps had, apparently, been eagerly awaiting my arrival.

"Welcome back, Zoe," she said. "Did you enjoy your summer break? Have a seat."

"Most of it was amazing," I answered, dropping into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "There were a few bobbly moments, but I survived."

"Obviously," she said, her voice and eyes reflecting warm amusement. "I look forward to your essays describing each experience," she added.

"Is that a requirement?"

"It is if you want credit for the courses."

"I didn't even realize that was an option," I said. "I mean, it was just a couple of summer workshops."

"You won't get credit for a full semester," she explained, "but each workshop will count as an elective. You have until the end of September to finish the essays, and I'll send the guidelines – required word-counts, and the like – to your padd."

"Okay," I said. "Is that all you needed me for?"

"I'm afraid there's more."

"I knew it was too good to be true," I said glumly.

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," she said. "I just wanted to go over your schedule for the year. I know you're not interested in the Academy, but if you want to go to an academic institution, and not an arts academy, we need to make sure you meet the entrance requirements."

"I have a 3.9 average," I said. "I'm in all advanced placement courses. What requirements could I possibly _not_ be meeting?"

"Actually," she said, glancing at her computer screen. "You're short a science credit, and I think you should consider tracking any athletics that you do, in lieu of an actual physical education class."

"P.E.?" I asked, surprised. "I'm short on P.E.?"

"And science," she reminded me. "I know you surf – and I've seen you in the Pilates studio. Sadly, surfing doesn't count, but if you just log your time with Pilates and maybe add some actual dance training or regular swimming, then P.E. is covered. As to science, I'd recommend something that involves lab time."

"I took biology on Centaurus, and chemistry here last year."

"I'd suggest an advanced biology course. If you don't want to try to fit in a scheduled class, perhaps you could create a work-study arrangement in one of the labs. You'd have to get permission from the person in charge of the lab, and the chief of ship's operations; that would be –"

"Commander Data," I said before she could. "I know."

"If you wish me to contact him for you?"

I shook my head, "We see each other almost every day. Remember? I'm in his math tutorial and he's giving me private music theory lessons."

"Ah," she said, "I'd forgotten you were his protégé. Well, then, you know what to do. I'll send the work-study guidelines to your padd as well."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks." I started to get up, but hesitated long enough to ask, "Is that everything?"

"For now," she said, smiling. "Have a great semester, Zoe."

I promised her that I would try.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44684.16**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 17:15 hours, ship's time)**

By the time I returned to Data's quarters, I'd been to the orientation meetings for Vulcan II, and Spanish III, and also had some serious hang-out time with Annette and Dana in the former's living room, where we'd shared our excitement and complaints about the classes we were taking that school year and then made plans to meet for lunch the next day.

I'd also taken a few moments to contact my father, who didn't even notice the piercing in my tongue, and review with him what I'd planned to focus on in voice lessons.

"Make sure Lorna starts teaching you about breath control," he'd advised.

"She's using her middle name now," I said, "Jessie. Not that I blame her; Lorna's a frumpy name, and she's definitely not frumpy."

Laughing, my father agreed, "No, I suppose she's not."

"I should go," I said when we'd also discussed what I should be working on with Data. "Give Gia a hug from me. Can't wait 'til Christmas."

"I love you, Zoetrope," he'd responded. "Talk soon."

Subspace messages were never enough.

It was after five before I realized that I hadn't touched my cello since I'd left the Suzuki Institute, except to transport it home, and that with Saturday Sessions due to resume in two days, I should at least _try_ to sound like I hadn't blown off my instrument for nearly two months.

When I opened the case, the scent of rosin brought me immediately back to the last time I'd played in this room, the last Saturday before I'd left. At the time, I remembered, I hadn't wanted the lesson to end. All of a sudden, I couldn't wait for them to begin.

I lifted my cello out of the velvet-lined case, checked that the strings were intact and the bridge was in the right position – it wasn't unusual for instruments to get knocked around in transit, as much as every musician tried not to let it happen – and peered through the f-holes to make sure the sound post was in its proper place as well. Satisfied that there had been no obvious damage, I went to the closet where Data kept the music stands, set up the room as if it were already Saturday.

I spent the first hour just doing warm-up exercises. Scales, arpeggios, simple songs. I was glad he wasn't there to see that I had to stop and trim my fingernails back to playing length, though I knew he would not have mocked me, just given me the reproachful look that meant he knew I hadn't practiced enough to be worth his time.

Well, I was probably harder on myself then he was likely to be.

When I was bored with warm-ups, I went looking through the pouch of data-solids that were still stowed in my case, casting one after the other aside until I'd found what I was looking for: sheet music for a sort of musical triptych that Hugo Rodriguez had composed as a duet for violin and cello. I made a point of copying the score and sending both the entire work and just the violin part to Data, as well as uploading the latter to his music stand.

Two hours later, after a break to use the bathroom and feed Spot, I was still immersed in the highly technical pieces that blended contemporary and classical styles and rhythms, so much so, in fact, that I barely noticed that Data had come into the room, picked up his violin, and started to play along with me until we finished the last movement.

"An intriguing piece," he observed. "It is not one I am familiar with."

"Hello to you, too," I teased. "You wouldn't have heard of this piece. It's one of Hugo's. He gave copies to the people who attended his master class. I sent you the full score – there's an optional classical guitar part."

"We would need to find another violinist, if you wish to add the guitar part."

"Or another cellist," I said. "Hugo had us all playing each other's instruments all summer. I mean, it's not like I'd never played a violin before – but, he had us switching parts all the time. It was fun. Challenging, but fun."

"Do you wish to switch instruments now?" he asked.

"Do you mind if we don't? I really hadn't planned to rope you into a rehearsal, I just wanted… no, _needed_ …  play."

"But you set up both music stands," he pointed out.

"I _hoped_ you'd come home in time to join me," I confessed, grinning. "It seemed appropriate. I mean, it's my last night usurping your bed, and all. I figured something special was in order, and since the joys of chocolate cheesecake are lost on you…" I trailed off, reacting to his widened eyes and suddenly stiffer posture. "Did I overstep? I really didn't mean to."

"You did not," he said, but his tone was an odd one, even for him. "It would seem I have become… accustomed to your presence here."

Somehow, I managed neither to blush nor to make a snarky comment. "Yeah," I said, feeling my throat get suddenly rough. "I know I balked at being here in the beginning, but… I meant what I said this morning. It's been okay. More than okay, really. It's been… kind of nice." I let that thought hang there for a moment, then forced a lighter tone. "So, should we run through this piece one more time, or are you taking me to dinner?"

"You wish to dine elsewhere?"

I laughed, "I was kidding, mostly. I mean, I feel like my being here has forced you not to spend time with your friends, and as much as I admire your mad replicator skills, I could use a change of scene, but, it's _also_ been nice getting to have quiet meals with you and then help broaden your exposure to pop culture by way of the ship's video library. Going back to seeing you only in class and on Saturdays is going to be… " I trailed off, then took a breath and confessed, "I'm going to miss spending friend-time with you."

"Commander Riker's poker game is typically on Sunday nights," Data said, apparently randomly.

"Good for Commander Riker?" I replied, puzzled.

"I wished to be clear. You have not kept me from any social activities, as the last scheduled event was last Sunday's poker game, which was cancelled because we were still investigating the bombings at Starbase Twelve."

"Oh."

"Would you like to have dinner in Ten-Forward, Zoe?"

"With you?" I asked.

"Unless there is someone with whom you would prefer to –"

"No," I said quickly. "No, there's no one else I'd – I mean, thank you, Data. I'd love to go to dinner with you." I could feel myself blushing again. I glanced down at the jeans I was wearing. "I should probably change, though. I'm covered in rosin and cat hair."

"I will pack your cello for you while you do so," he said.

I set my cello down on its side and left the room, returning a few minutes later still wearing the same V-neck shirt I'd had on all day, but having paired it with a casual skirt that had surfaced in my suitcase, and the sandals I'd worn to the conference on Sunday morning. I returned to the main room where he was waiting, and I froze.

"We can't do this," I said.

"Zoe?"

"We can't go to dinner in Ten-Forward. Not… not just us. Lunch, sure. But not dinner. Not after… people will think we're on a date."

"Are we not?"

"You _know_ we're not. Not on a _date_ -date, anyway."

"We have shared meals in Ten-Forward more than once."

"Yeah, with other people. The only time it's ever been just _us_ has been in Mom's quarters, or here."

"I am confused. You are more concerned with what people will think of us sharing a meal in a public space than what may be construed by sharing a meal at home?"

A slight flutter went through me when he said 'home.'

"No one _knows_ if I'm eating at your table when I'm here," I pointed out. "And you heard what Geordi said this morning. He's your best friend, and he thought we were… that our relationship was…"

"Inappropriate."

"Yeah," I said, collapsing onto the couch. "Counselor Troi says I worry too much about it, but…" I took a breath. "I spent a good chunk of my childhood with my father, going on tour with him. He stopped taking me when school became something that mattered, but it wasn't _just_ because I needed to be in one place for school. Part of the reason I got dumped with Gran is because I got old enough to figure out that he was sleeping with my tutors or my aux pairs. The last one - the last one was in his bed _hours_ before Mom arrived home on leave. My father wrote the book on inappropriate, and do you know what my response was? I went to a bonfire on the beach and got wasted."

"I did not know." He joined me on the couch, but his posture remained rigid.

"There was no reason you should've."

"You seem to have a pleasant relationship with your father, now."

"Appearances can be deceiving," I said. "And I'm pretty good at blocking out the things I don't want to deal with, and making jokes about the rest."

"The human capacity for emotional self-defense is most intriguing," Data said. "I often marvel at the resilience you display."

"Yeah, we're talented that way."

"No, Zoe, I mean you, specifically."

"Me?" I shook my head. "I'm really pretty ordinary, Data. Most of the time I'm completely confused, trying desperately to keep up, and hoping nobody notices how unprepared I really am."

"Would it surprise you to know that your description applies to myself as well?"

I refrained from pointing out that he was anything but ordinary. "You? You can't be serious. No, wait, don't say it."

He didn't remind me that he was always serious. Instead he said, "You are aware that I have no emotions, that I never quite 'fit in.' It is only since being posted to the _Enterprise_ that I have even managed to form friendships."

Somehow, hearing that in his matter-of-fact inflection made it more poignant. "I… didn't know," I said, echoing his earlier statement in meaning, if not in exact phrasing.

"There is no reason that you should have," he stated, echoing me.

"Is there a point buried under there somewhere?" I asked. "Because I'm starving, and wherever we – or I – eat tonight, I'd really like it to be soon."

"That is evident from your mood," he said. "You once told me that if we were friends, there had to be trust, did you not?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then, will you trust me when I tell you that there is nothing inappropriate about two friends having dinner in Ten-Forward?"

"But…"

"Must I remind you again that androids do not lie?" he added, staring pointedly at me.

"Okay, fine," I said. "You win."

"Thank you, Zoe." He stood and moved toward the door, and I followed. "On the way, you may explain to me why you chose to install a new tongue stud."

I laughed, and looped my arm through his. "Actually, there are three reasons. One is that I decided it was kind of cool. Edgy, even. The other is that it's a tangible reminder not to be quite so reckless."

"That is only two reasons," he pointed out as we entered the turbolift.

"Well, the third reason is kind of immature."

"Oh?"

"It will _really_ annoy my mother."

He may not have had actual emotions. He certainly couldn't laugh. But the look on his face? Priceless.

**(=A=)**

Ten-Forward was pleasantly busy when we arrived, with Commander Riker's jazz combo playing in one corner, and people dancing nearby. "Maybe we should rethink this," I suggested, but Data ignored me, guiding me to a table far enough away from the music so that we could actually have a conversation.

Guinan appeared almost as soon as we were seated, and smiled knowingly at me. "I knew you weren't going to keep the original piercing," she said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I thought you meant I wasn't going to keep a piercing at all."

"I know," she said, with a faint smile on her face and in her voice. She took our order – one serving of an eggplant and water chestnut casserole I really loved, and two sets of silverware – and disappeared again, but not without adding the instruction, "Data, after you eat, make sure you dance with Zoe. She needs a little fun."

"I really don't need to dance," I protested after she left.

"I do not mind," he responded.

"'Not minding' isn't the same as wanting to," I pointed out. "And anyway, I don't even know _how_ to dance."

"There are several kinds of dance listed on your theatrical resume."

"Why, exactly, did I ever let you see that?"

He refrained from answering while the server was delivering our food, but as soon as the waiter had gone, he said, "You let me see it because I asked."

"And if I'd said no, you'd have asked Dr. Crusher for a copy."

"That is… quite probable," he agreed.

"Alright, look, I have experience with ballet, tap, jazz, and hip-hop. I took hula lessons for two weeks. I know how to ice skate, but when it comes to social dancing? I'm pretty much limited to the kind of rhythmic gyration popular at clubs… not… not ballroom, or anything similar. Well, except waltzing, but any idiot can do _that_."

"Then I will teach you," he said.

"There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"

"No."

"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear."

"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris."

"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data."

He managed to get me onto the dance floor, led me through a few basic steps, and soon figured out I hadn't been exactly honest about not knowing that type of dancing. I'd danced at my father's wedding, after all, but I wasn't _good_ at it by any means, and it's a fortunate thing android feet are immune to fumble-footed teenagers. 

After a few songs, I needed a drink, and a break, and we returned to our table. "Was it," Data asked guilelessly, "torture to dance with me?"

"Well," I admitted between sips of water. "I might have enjoyed it… a little. But next time, I get to choose our activity."

"I will hold you to that," he agreed.

We left shortly afterward, and even though it wasn't even midnight, the emotional pre-dinner conversation combined with the dancing meant I was more than ready for sleep. I excused myself to go to bed the second we entered his quarters.

"You do not wish to have tea?" he asked, apparently puzzled. Well, it was our usual ritual.

"I do," I said, "but I wish to be functional at a reasonable hour _more_. Thank you for tonight."

"You are welcome, Zoe," he said. "Good night."

"Good night, Data." I let the door swish most of the way shut, leaving it open only a crack that time, zipped through my nighttime bathroom routine, and curled up in the bed.

An hour later, I sat straight up, not because I'd had a nightmare, but because I realized I'd inadvertently asked him out. He'd know it wasn't a date, wouldn't he? _Wouldn't he?_ I forced myself to lie down, and did some of T'vek's meditation techniques to help find that pleasantly muzzy, sleep zone again. _Of course he'd know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugo Rodriguez is the fictional cellist of the equally fictional Tantalus Quartet, and was one of Zoe's instructors during her time at the Suzuki Institute (see Hello from Earth…). Hugo's "musical triptych" is actually a piece in three movements, "Three Semblances," by Gabriel Gutierrez Arellano. It's been recorded by Duo Parnas (two string-playing sisters) on their album NOW which celebrates contemporary (at the time of release) composers. A version that includes guitar has been added to the Crushing on Cello playlist (see my profile). Sorry for the long delay in this chapter – life's been…busy.


	8. Clarification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her mother back aboard, Zoe's life should be settling into something approaching normalcy... shouldn't it?

**Stardate 44693.44**

**(Monday, 11 September 2367, 02:36 hours, ship's time)**

_"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear."_

_"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris."_

_"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data."_

_"But it's so much fun," he replied, the faint smile on his face twisting into a leer. We were on the dance floor in Ten-Forward, and we were dancing but the people around us were distorted, and their mouths, I realized, weren't moving in conversation or laughter, but represented their screams._

_"What did you say?" I asked looking into his eyes. His features, too, changed, but the changes were subtle: the set of his jaw was more belligerent. The warmth in his eyes had turned to cold. Pale, faint, light as from a dying moon, not the comforting glow of sunlight I was accustomed to._

_"I said, 'but it is so much fun,'" he said. Except he hadn't. Except his tone was flatter, and the innocent note in his voice was fake. "And it **is** , my little pigeon. It's **so** much fun to needle the people you love. To know exactly where to prick the skin, exactly how hard to press before you pull back and let them figure out why they're bleeding."_

_The spinning sensation grew faster, the screams merged with the music – weird calliope music – the faces twisted and morphed into the pictures I'd seen on the news nets…the pictures of explosive decompression victims._

_His hand held my waist. His other hand skated up my body, grazing my breast, tangling in my hair. Our mouths met. I tasted acid. I tasted the faint sweetness that I now knew was Data's…flavor. I tasted acid again, and recoiled. No, give me back the sweetness, my mind pleaded._

_"He finally tasted you, didn't he," that voice – Lore's voice – whispered in my ear. "No…no, you tasted him. Oh, pigeon, maybe you're not such a little girl after all."_

_We spun. And people screamed. And there were sirens._

_Klaxons._

_"Wake up, little pigeon. Ship's going down…"_

_"What?"_

_Klaxons._

_Klaxons!_

**_Klaxons!_ **

_I sat up in bed, screaming. Red warning lights bathed everything, flashing on and off. There was smoke that I tasted rather than smelled._

"Zoe, sweetie, wake up. Kiddo, come on. You're dreaming, and you need to wake up." My mother's voice coaxed me into wakefulness.

"Mom?" I asked, confused. "Were there alert sounds just now?"

"Not a one, hon," she said, smiling at her own rhyme. Her face grew serious again immediately, though. "You were having another nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really. It was more of the same. Data. Lore. People screaming as they fell victim to explosive decompression."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Tea usually helps. Mint or chamomile. A tiny bit of honey."

"Usually?"

I blushed faintly. "Data always made me tea when I had a bad dream," I explained. "Although once we got Lore's message stud out, I didn't have any more." I saw her expression change from concern to slight confusion and added quickly, "Nightmares, not tea. I had plenty more tea." I paused a moment to muse. "I don't know if he made it because he knows I like it, or if somebody told him that it's a good idea to offer a hot beverage to a friend in distress."

Chuckling, my mother suggested, "Perhaps it's a bit of both?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Alright then, I'll get you some tea, and if you decide you want to tell me about your dream, I'll listen."

"Thanks Mom." She left my room, and I checked the time – just after two-thirty, and I had class in a few hours. Data's class, in fact. That wasn't going to be awkward at _all._ When she returned, I was sitting up in bed. I took the mug from her, and wrapped my hands around it. "Sit with me a minute?" I invited, moving to make room.

"Sure, kiddo." She took up a perch on the edge of my bed. "What's up?"

I stirred the tea so I could focus on the spoon and not her face. "How come you weren't angry?"

"What do you mean?"

"You came home to find me basically living with my math tutor…the same man you _wouldn't_ let me go on an overnight shuttle trip with to see the Tantalus play last spring. So, why was that not okay, but me staying in his quarters didn't seem to faze you?" Looking up at her again, I squinted my eyes as if I were suspicious, and asked, mostly joking, "Who are you, and what did you do with my mother?"

She laughed. "Oh, Zoe. I _was_ angry, at first, but then I realized that being with him really was the safest place for you. Also… while you were away all summer, I made more of an effort to get to know Data off-duty." She hesitated, before adding, "I was _angrier_ with him for not telling me Lore had been contacting you this summer, but when he explained his reasons for not telling me, I understood. I didn't quite agree, but I understood."

"I wanted to tell you," I said. "But he thought it would be better not to. He didn't want you to worry over something you couldn't fix."

"Yes, he explained that."

"I was afraid if you knew, you'd make me come back here."

"I might've," she admitted.

"So, can I keep the tongue piercing?" I asked, abruptly changing the subject. "I mean, we got Lore's out, of course, but this one, the one Dr. Crusher put in for me…can I keep it?"

"I don't know, _can_ you?" she asked pointedly.

Rolling my eyes, I restated my question, " _May_ I keep the tongue piercing?"

"For a while, I suppose," she agreed. "It might remind you to be less reckless in the future."

"That was part of why I did it."

"And it will really annoy your father," she added.

"MOM!" I laughed. "I'd hoped it would annoy _you_ ," I added, after a beat.

She laughed and shook her head at me in bemused fashion. "Drink your tea, daughter-of-mine, and go back to sleep. You have school in the morning."

"Okay," I said.

"We can talk about your dream at breakfast, if you want."

"Okay," I said again.

"I love you, kiddo."

"Okay," I said a third time, then grinned. "I love you too, Mom."

She left, and I sunk back against the pillows slightly. I sipped some of the tea but it didn't taste as good as it did when I was sitting on Data's couch, so I put the mug aside and turned off the lights.

I didn't dream again that night.

**(=A=)**

I was not the most attentive student in class that morning. Data began by reminding us about some kind of advanced placement test that would be significant when we began looking at universities, and then he launched into options for the rest of the year, and the year following. I should have been watching him. I should have been having my padd record his lecture. I should have at least made an effort to listen.

Instead, I was thinking about how it had felt when we'd kissed, and how much I wanted a proper kiss, not some chaste meeting of mouths meant as a means to an end, and how I'd inadvertently asked him out.

His words kept running through my head. _"It is also possible that I was curious, as well."_ What did that even mean? And when was I ever going to be able to find out? _"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left. There were no errors or malfunctions."_

My head felt like it was swimming, and only after Dana, sitting next to me, elbowed me in the ribs, did I realize Data had moved on to the review portion of the class, and had asked me to solve a problem, which was displayed on all our padds.

"Sorry," I said. I did the math, and shared my answer.

"Correct," Data said. "Though your solution was not the most elegant. Can anyone improve on Zoe's methodology?"

Looking at the problem again, I saw what he meant, and blushed hotly, because if I hadn't been distracted, I'd have seen the better solution in the first place.

Rryl was the first of my classmates to raise his hand, offering the method I _should_ have used.

"Very good," Data told him. He assigned another problem and picked Josh to give the answer that time.

Noon finally arrived, by which time my focus had improved, though I was still hyper-aware of Data, of the way he moved and spoke. He was toying with the stylus that went with his padd, I noticed, and then I couldn't stop staring at his fingers, fingers which had so recently stroked my hair, and been wrapped around my own and… _Stop it,_ I ordered myself. _You have to stop this._

"Lunch in Ten-Forward?" Annette asked the room as we all moved toward the door.

"Definitely," Josh said. "I'm starving."

"You are _always_ 'starving,'" Rryl observed.

"He's only been here a few weeks and he already knows your reputation as a human trash-can, Josh," I teased. "Hold the 'lift for me? I need to ask Data a question."

"Don't take too long," Dana said, linking her arm through Josh's. "Or he might die of hunger."

We all laughed, and then my friends were gone and Data was looking at me expectantly. "You have a question, Zoe?" he asked. "If it is about the homework assignment –"

"It's not," I cut in, "but it is school-related. Ms. Phelps told me last week that I'm short a lab science, and suggested that a work-study arrangement might interest me more than joining one of the classes. I talked with Lt. Nguyen in the aquatics lab, and she said that she'd be willing to put me to work, but no matter what I do, it has to go through you."

"I was not aware you were interested in marine biology."

"You know I love the ocean. Is it so surprising I'd be interested in what lives in it?" I hadn't meant it to come out as snark, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"It is not," he said, "that your interest is surprising. I assumed your interest in the grace sharks was more casual than scientific. We devote most of our conversations to music."

"Well, music or Lore, these days," I agreed. I made a sort of chuckling snort. "Geordi told me, months ago, that I should talk to you about _all_ the things I'm interested in, but I haven't because… well, at first I didn't want to waste your time, and now…" I trailed off, shaking my head to clear it. "I'm sorry, this isn't the time for this; my friends are waiting." I took a breath. "Will you approve my work study, or not?"

"Of course, Zoe. Ask Lt. Nguyen to send me an official request, and copy it to Ms. Phelps."

I managed a weak smile. "Okay, I'll do that. Thanks, Data." I picked up my padd and started to leave.

"One moment?" he requested.

I was getting antsy. "Um, okay?"

"You seemed uncomfortable in class today. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Show up to class with a bag over your head and wearing sackcloth," I snarked, and then immediately regretted it. I dropped back into my chair. "I'm _sorry_. I had another nightmare early this morning, and I'm unsettled and off-kilter, and… I can't even talk about it with my mother." He was about to say something else, and I put up my hand to stop him. "Don't tell me to talk to the counselor. I've already got a standing appointment with her for Thursday."

"I was going to suggest that you could talk to _me_ ," he said.

Right, tell him I was dreaming about him. "I'll think about it," I hedged. "But… look, I really don't expect special treatment, but being in class with you after the last week, after… everything… is kind of weird, so please be patient if I'm 'uncomfortable?'" _Or hold my hand and tell me everything's going to be fine?_

"Of course, Zoe."

"Thanks," I said. "I have to go." I stood up again, and managed to leave the room.

My friends were still holding the turbolift when I got there. "Everything okay?" Dana asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm short a lab science, and Ms. Phelps suggested a work-study thing. I needed Data to approve it, is all."

"About time you started taking advantage of the opportunities available on this fine starship," Josh teased.

"What?"

"You're actually the only one of us who isn't doing some kind of work-study or independent study course for something," Annette explained.

"Oh." I felt silly. "Actually, that's not true. I have Saturday morning music theory with Data."

"Does that mean you're unavailable from ten to noon every week?" Dana asked.

"Nope. Ten to one. We're adding an extra hour to work on technique. I have been released from lessons with Seth."

"Good," Annette said. "I never liked him."

"Yeah, me neither," Josh put in as the 'lift doors opened again on deck ten. "You know, Tev used to ask Wes and me to meet you after lessons when he couldn't. And after he left, Data mentioned it, too."

"I knew about Tev," I said, as we walked into the lounge. Guinan caught my eye and we shared a look. "I actually used to ask him to meet me and be very visible," I added.

"Who is Seth?" Rryl asked. "And Tev?"

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Seth is Lt. Starker. He used to be my cello teacher, here on the ship. And Tev is T'vek Mairaj."

"Zoe's boyfriend," Josh put in, in a teasing tone. "They were hot and heavy."

" _Ex_ -boyfriend," I corrected. "His parents were transferred to the _Berlin_ last February. Oh! But I saw him over the summer. He had an architecture thing on Earth, and we managed to meet up for a weekend. Let's grab the table by the viewport."

As we walked through the room, we passed Jenna D'Sora, the security lieutenant whom Data had been dating when I'd first started theory lessons the year before, sitting with a group of her friends. We'd gotten off to a rocky start, but even though she was the adult, I'd been the one to apologize and start over. She and Data had ended their relationship soon after, for reasons I wasn't privy to, but she still played the clarinet, which meant that – as fellow musicians - from time to time our paths crossed.

I smiled at her as we walked by her table. She wasn't one of the officers any of us would have considered interrupting – not like Reg or Geordi – but she was usually okay, so when she returned my smile with a glare, I was really confused.

"Geez, Zoe, friend of yours?" Josh asked softly, having caught the woman's expression.

We settled into seats around the table, giving Rryl the new-guy privilege of the best seat, the one where you could see out, but also people-watch. "That officer did not appear to like you," the Akkallan boy observed.

"That was a stink-eye, if I've ever seen one," Annette confirmed.

"I honestly have no idea what that was about," I said. "I mean, I kind of know her, but as far as I know, I haven't done anything to piss _anyone_ off lately. I couldn't even get a rise out of my mother when she saw my piercing."

"Maybe she's jealous of your new jewelry," Dana teased.

"Yes," I said, playing along. "That must be it. Not everyone has the style and confidence to pull off a mouth full of metal."

We all laughed, and then one of the waiters came to take our orders, and we spent the rest of the meal getting to know Rryl, who, it turned out, had a father in the science division and a mother in operations, did love to surf, and would be in our Language and Literature class with Ed this term.

Not long before we were done, Annette excused herself to use the restroom. When she came back, her expression was troubled. "Zoe, I need to ask you something," she said, "could you step away for a moment?"

"Um, sure," I said. I had no idea what she needed to ask me that couldn't be said in front of the rest of our friends, but I got up and walked with her to an empty table a little bit away from ours. "What's up?"

"I'm not sure how to ask this," she said softly, "but Zoe…someone stopped me in the corridor and asked if I was friends with 'the girl who's dating Commander Data.' Is there… is there something going on?"

" _What_? Annette, no, of course there isn't."

"Well, I didn't think so, but they said you two were in here last week, and that you were dancing with him."

I blushed. "That part's technically true," I said. "I mean, yes, we came here for dinner last Thursday, and Commander Riker's jazz combo was playing and we danced – well, he danced, I mostly stepped on his feet – but it wasn't anything like… It was definitely _not_ a date."

"If you were dancing with him, how was it not a date?" she asked, and I could tell she was sincere about the question.

"Because it wasn't," I said. "Because…" I sighed. "I can't tell you. We were working on a project and I was a little stir crazy. Data and I are _friends_. I mean, really, he's an officer, and I'm a student and underage. People can think what they like about me, but him? They should know better."

"You're right," she said, "They should. Well, whatever is going on with you, I hope you'll tell us soon, Zoe. We're your friends and we love you, but it feels like you're shutting us out of something...something really big."

"I know," I said. "I kind of am, but I swear it's not by choice. I hate secrets. They fester into really horrible situations, and kill friendships."

She slung her arm around me in a quick, friendly hug, then let go. "Okay," she said. "Let's go have dessert. I _need_ some chocolate today."

"Oh, sister," I said, "who doesn't?"

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44703.13**

**(14 September 2367, 15:30 hours, ship's time)**

By Thursday afternoon, I wasn't sure if there were more people asking me about Data, or if I'd just become more aware of it, but I'd nearly blown off Wednesday's math class because of it, opting at the last minute to show up, do exactly what was required of me (no more, no less), and then beat a hasty retreat.

I managed not to drift off into daydreams, at least.

Quartet rehearsals were on hold for another week, as Dr. Crusher had invited anyone interested to come watch scenes from the people who'd been participating in her latest acting workshop. Lt. Barclay, I knew, had been part of it, because I'd run into him on the way to the aquatics lab the day before, and he'd mentioned hearing that I'd been in acting class all summer.

"Yes," I'd told him. "Well, half the summer. The other half was all music, all the time. I'm a veritable font of artsy-fartsyness now."

He'd grinned his goofy grin at me and stammered through an admission that he, too, had been taking lessons. "From Dr. Crusher," he'd explained. "Bev-Beverly is a good teacher. Very patient. Very kind."

"She can be," I'd agreed amiably. "My teachers weren't quite so nice. I called Dat – home. I called _home_ in tears more than once. But they say pain is character building, so… there's that. Excuse me please, Lt. Nguyen is waiting for me."

"You're doing an internship in aquatics?" he'd asked, and the switch to science seemed to relax him a little. "That seems like something you'd enjoy."

"Well, I didn't get to see sharks in San Francisco Bay, so I had to do something to be allowed to play with the pair we have on board."

"Not seeing sharks when you're surfing is a good thing, Zoe," he'd said.

"So people keep telling me," I teased. "Gotta go." And I'd dashed off down the corridor.

But that was Wednesday, and on Thursday I was sitting in Counselor Troi's office fiddling with an iced raspberry mocha, and trying to be as open and honest as possible when what I really wanted to do was throw ceramic objects at walls.

"I feel like everyone's looking at me differently," I said. "Like they all wonder if Data and I are sleeping together, and that's ridiculous, because of so many reasons."

"Yes," she said, "it is. But it's also normal for people to speculate. Your father is a celebrity, Zoe. Haven't you had experiences with people talking about his love-life?"

"Well, yeah, all the time, but in his case half of it was true, and the other half was about people I didn't know. It's very different when you see the object of speculation across the table from you in math class three times a week, or when you're supposed to be working on music theory together."

"I'm sure it is."

"Does it bother Data? All the whispering?"

"Data would say that it 'cannot bother him,'" she said, trying to imitate his tone. (Personally, I thought my impression was much better.)

"We both know that's not true, and yes, I know, this is supposed to be about me, not him, but… I don't know… I was hoping that at least I wouldn't be in it alone."

"You're not," she said. "He doesn't hear as much because he _is_ a line officer, but he's heard enough."

"Enough to understand why after a week basically living with him, I'm suddenly playing avoidance games?"

"You're avoiding him?"

"As much as I can without blowin – skipping class."

"Is it helping?"

"Not really," I set the glass down on the side table. "Usually, he'd be the person I'd want to talk to about it, but I feel like…the more time I spend with him the harder it is not to want more…Class on Monday was excruciating, by the way, and _not_ because people were talking."

"Oh, why?"

"Because… Because… Did he tell you how we got Lore's stud out of my mouth?"

"You know I can't reveal –"

I rolled my eyes, " _I_ have to know how much _you_ know, so I know what I have to tell and what I don't. And, yes, I _know_ , Ed would kill me for constructing a sentence like that."

She chuckled softly, but sobered almost immediately. "Data explained that you shared a kiss which released the stud."

"Did he tell you I initiated it, after he essentially told me we weren't going to try it?"

"He did."

"Did he also tell you he didn't stop me?"

"Zoe…"

"He didn't stop me. He kissed me back. And, okay, as kisses go it was relatively chaste, but I can't help it. I keep thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him properly and sitting in class my thoughts got all spirally…"

"And you were uncomfortable."

"He mentioned that?"

"Only out of concern for you."

"My behavior must confuse him more than his confuses me."

"What do you mean?"

"Before _that_ kiss, we'd – I'd – we've always been physically affectionate. Not inappropriately. The occasional hug. And, you know, he was holding my hand a lot during that meeting the other week. But it was mostly me, treating him the same way I treat the guys in Dad's orchestra who are also family friends. Casual hugs. Kisses on the cheek. People in the arts tend to be more demonstrative than Starfleet types. It's our culture."

Troi smiled. "That's true, and that you include Data in it isn't unnoticed by him."

"I've noticed I'm one of the only people who touches him. You know, casual touches in social situations."

"That's very perceptive."

"You spend six weeks with Lachlan Meade cursing at you in a Scottish brogue, insisting that you _notice ev'rything_ , you'd become pretty perceptive, too."

She laughed again, but all she said was, "Go on…"

"He touched my hair, in the hotel room. After he broke open the door. And when I was in his quarters, before I went to bed one night, he did it again, and kissed my forehead." I hesitated. "I don't know if it means anything, or if he's just repeating actions he thinks are appropriate."

"Did you ask him?"

"How, exactly, would I do that?"

"By doing it, but it may be premature."

"So what do I do? How do I deal? Do we move my lessons to one of the practice rooms on the rec deck? Do I make a point of not being anywhere near him outside of class?" And then I remembered, "Oh, god, I accidentally asked him out."

"What do you mean?"

"After our thing-that-was-absolutely-not-a-date last week, I told him that even though I hadn't wanted to dance, I'd had fun, but that I got to choose our next activity."

"And Data said…?"

"He agreed to my terms."

"So, what is your next activity?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him. You both know the truth of your friendship. If it's meant to be something more, it will happen. If it's not, you still both have a very special friendship. Broadening your knowledge of each other's interests, spending time doing things that aren't strictly related to music, these will only help both of your explorations of what you are to each other."

"Shouldn't you be telling me I'm too young for him, or that it's too soon to think about more?"

The counselor hesitated for a beat. Then she said, "You _are_ very young, Zoe, but as we discussed last week, if you're not entirely an adult, you're certainly not a child. As well, there are ways in which Data is also very young, despite his chronological age, his rank, and his position on this ship."

She waited for me to nod, confirming that I'd been listening, then she continued. "I should remind you: the fact that Data _is_ an android means that he both cannot and will not allow things to progress further than they should, but it also means he may not realize it if your feelings are hurt. Even as 'just' friends, you're going to have to be open with him in ways you wouldn't have to be at a similar stage in any other relationship."

I emitted a wry snort. "Yeah, I've learned that already. But about the rest… Do you mean it's okay… to… to not-date him? I shouldn't feel like it's wrong or inappropriate if we spend time together?"

"Does it feel inappropriate?"

"Not really. It feels like… like I'm spending time with someone I've known forever."

"If you're both enjoying the experience, I don't see why not. As well, the more people see you and Data together, no matter what direction your relationship takes, the less they'll talk."

"Oh, I get it," I said. "Don't give the story anywhere to go."

"Exactly," she said. "If they ask if you were the young woman dancing with him…"

"I say, 'yes, and I'm so sorry I wasn't a better partner for him.'"

She laughed, "Exactly."

"Okay," I said. "I can do that."

"Good," she said. "Now, let's talk about your nightmares."

"Can we table that? I think… I think maybe the most recent ones were because of the way my friendship with Data seems to be shifting… not a lot… but…"

"But it is changing, which it should, as you're growing older."

"Guinan said something like that, too. She also said…she said the best people never stop being students, and that in his own way, Data was a student, too."

"That's an excellent way to look at things, but don't tell Guinan I said that. She might be after my job."

I laughed with her that time. "Thanks, Counselor – Deanna. Talking to you is always helpful."

"I'm glad," she said. "Now drink that before I have to, and I shouldn't because I already had one." I followed her gaze to my glass, picked it up again, and drank the sweet, chocolaty beverage while we chatted in a less clinical tone about my school schedule and my internship/work-study/whatever thing in the aquatics lab.

**(=A=)**

As part of my Data-avoidance measures, I went to Dr. Crusher's theatre workshop recital with Josh and Dana, and Rryl, whose father was known for his storytelling skills and was also performing that evening.

Even so, we ended up sitting in the same row as the senior officers, and I ended up sitting next to Data, after all. I couldn't help smirking at my android friend's obvious reactions - Lt. Barclay was supremely awful – but getting up on stage the first few times can be difficult, and even more so when the audience was comprised of people you work and live with every day. I knew that from my own experience.

When the performances were finally over, the doctor announced that auditions for the next production – _Romeo and Juliet_ \- would begin the next evening, and she encouraged everyone in the audience to consider a role. If I felt like she'd pinned me and Josh with her gaze when she said it, I was pretty sure I was just imagining it.

As we left the room, Rryl caught up with his father, and Josh and Dana went off to have some time together before her curfew. I was surprised to find Data waiting for me in the corridor.

"Your friends seem to have abandoned you," he observed, in the tone that was as close to teasing as he ever got.

"So they have," I said. "I plan to make them feel very guilty about it tomorrow. Were you waiting for Lt. Barclay? I think Counselor Troi is still with him."

"I was waiting for you."

"If this is about me still being unsettled in class…" I began, but he cut me off.

"It is not. I had thought to invite you to accompany me here tonight, but you have been…"

"Avoiding you?" It was me, interrupting him, that time. 

"Apparently."

"Yeah, I kind of was. _Am_. And the hallway really isn't the place to explain why."

"No, it is not," he agreed. Then, seemingly randomly, he added, "Spot misses you."

I raised my eyebrows in amused disbelief. " _Spot_ does?"

"Yes, I believe so. She becomes agitated at your typical bedtime, and stares fixedly at your place on the couch."

"I… see?"

"Perhaps you could accompany me to my quarters for a cup of tea, and to assure her that you have not left the ship?"

I'd never seen him this awkward before. Not with me, anyway. "I need to clear it with my mother. But if she doesn't object, and you have time before your shift, maybe I could hang out with you and Spot long enough to watch a vid?"

"I believe we would both find that acceptable. However, I reserve the right to veto your selection."

"Just because I wanted to watch _Hellraiser_ …" I grinned. We started walking toward the turbolift, and I asked, "So, do you think Lt. Barclay would improve any with _twelve_ weeks of lessons?"

"I would not 'get my hopes up.'"

We ended up watching a twentieth century classic: _Dead Poet's Society_ , which left me with the distinct impression that Data would be addressing Picard as, 'O Captain, my captain,' at his earliest opportunity, but between cuddling Spot and watching the video, I never did get around to explaining why I'd been avoidy-girl all week. Somehow, sitting on his couch with the cat and a bowl of popcorn, it didn't seem to matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astute readers will notice that we've now exited the space between episodes. The end of this chapter coincides with the teaser from "The Nth Degree."


	9. ConseQuences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and Data play music, attend a conference, and suffer a case of the Q's.

**ConseQuences**

**Stardate 44714.44**

**(Monday, 18 September 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

"I'm just saying it was like Reg was a whole different person," I told my mother as I set the table for dinner several days after Lt. Barclay's theatrical debut.

"Reg?" My mother _would_ question my use of an officer's first name.

"Lieutenant Barclay. He said to call him Reg." My mother accepted that, and I moved on. "I mean, on Friday, he pretty much sucked, and then Saturday he was phenomenal. Dr. Crusher told us in her casting memo that the only reason he didn't get Romeo is that he's too old."

"So, who did get Romeo? Josh?"

"Actually, no. He got Mercutio, and I think he's happy about that. Besides, if he had been cast as Romeo we would have had to kiss, and that would be weird."

"Isn't it part of the job though, to take whomever you're cast with in stride, and just do the job?" my mother asked in her I'm-making-a-point voice.

"Well, yes. Which is why I'm totally not going to protest playing Juliet opposite Ensign Lovejoy."

"Lovejoy…Not _Ethan_ Lovejoy? The one they all call 'Ensign Loverboy?'"

"That's the one. But Mom, really, it's just theater, it's not like I'm going to date him. Actually," and I made my tone somewhat lofty, "I've decided I'm not dating anyone this semester."

Her brow arch told me she didn't believe me. "Really?" she asked. "Does that mean you're cancelling your weekly video night with Data?"

I sat down at the table as she collected our meal from the replicator. "Hanging out with Data is more like teaching a class in Pop Culture 101 than anything even close to dating, which, by the way, we are _not_." Lofty had been replaced by testy.

"Easy, kiddo," my mother said. "I'm just teasing you."

"I know, Mom," I said. "I'm sorry. It's just… people are talking and it's starting to get to me a little." I took a few bites of salad, giving myself time to cool off. "So, are you involved in the Cytherian project?" Asking her about work was never a bad way to distract her.

"I am," she said. "It's fascinating getting to exchange information this way. Their culture considers the arts as important as the sciences and believes even the most functional of tools should still have an element of beauty."

"Data said we might have one or two of them visiting - well, a holographic projection of them, anyway – in class on Wednesday. I hope he doesn't decide to give us a pop quiz. His class is challenging enough for me without having an audience. Is there anything I should know about Cytherian etiquette?"

She chewed and swallowed the bite of food she'd just taken, then answered, "Not really. Be polite. If you should happen to be sarcastic, don't be surprised if they respond to that with questions about meaning and usage."

"Sarcasm isn't a thing for them?"

"So far, they seem to appreciate irony, but your kind of snark…"

"So, don't be quippy, is what you're saying?"

"If I answer 'yes' are you going to take it as a challenge to see just how quippy you can be?"

"Probably not," I answered. "But only because there are limited opportunities for snark in any math class and doing so with Data seems really wrong… especially considering… everything."

"Hmm." My mother peered at me over the glass of wine she was sipping. "Why is that not reassuring?"

I gave her my best innocent grin. "I don't know, Mom. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Hmm," she said again.

The rest of dinner was eaten in silence.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44727.22**

**(Saturday, 23 September 2367, 10:30 hours, ship's time)**

I was half an hour late to meet Data for my Saturday session, not because I'd overslept, or because I was avoiding him (that time), but because there were other people in the turbo-lift and I hadn't wanted them to know where I was going.

Counselor Troi had told me to trust the truth of my friendship with him, but that was a lot easier when I didn't hear my name being whispered in public spaces, and when I wasn't getting nasty looks from his ex-girlfriend.

Not that any of that was Data's fault.

Not that any of it was _anyone's_ fault, really.

It was just one more thing I would have preferred not to deal with.

"You are late," was his greeting when I stepped into his quarters. A year before, that observation would have been offered with flat neutrality. That day there were notes of concern in his voice. "Is everything o-kay?"

His use of the casual term made me smile in spite of myself. "Sorry," I said. "There were… do you think maybe we should move my lesson back to the conference room, or maybe use one of the practice rooms on the rec-deck?"

"I was under the impression you had come to prefer working here," he said, confusion layered over the concern in his tone. "However, if you would prefer an alternate location, we can move next week's lesson."

"I _do_ like working here," I said, adding the confession, "These quarters – _your_ quarters – feel almost as much like home to me as Mom's do. I just…" I hesitated, and recalled the counselor's other advice, that I would have to be open with him in ways I never would with anyone else. "People are talking. Whispering, really. In Ten-Forward. In the halls. It's not a lot of people, and I'm probably being hyper-sensitive, but, the general consensus is that people think our relationship is more than it is, and I'm embarrassed, and worried about it affecting _you,_ and there were people in the turbo-lift and they were staring at me, and I rode down to deck fourteen and over to the aft lift-bank, and then back up to this deck and walked back because I didn't want anyone to know I was coming here."

I hadn't meant for it all to come tumbling out in one massive info dump, but there it was. And honestly? Spelled out, it seemed ridiculous, and for once I was glad that he wouldn't – _couldn't_ – laugh at me.

Instead, he was sympathetic.

"I am sorry that you are troubled by ship's gossip," he said. "I have heard similar suppositions."

"And they don't bother you?"

Data had the sense not to tell me he couldn't be bothered. "I have been the subject of gossip many times before," he said softly. "I do not comprehend the purpose of it, and I would prefer that it not occur, but, in the words of a very wise woman, 'people will think what they think.'"

"That sounds like something Guinan would say."

His eyebrows lifted, almost as if I'd impressed him in some way. "It was."

"How did you deal with it, other times?"

"At first, I would confront people and attempt to explain that I was not, in fact, a 'walking data-padd' or a 'talking encyclopedia.'"

"Oh, I bet _that_ went over well."

"Gossip, and my initial reaction to it, are part of what made my time at Starfleet Academy somewhat… challenging."

"Only part?"

"Practical jokes were also a negative factor."

"I never realized you were picked on."

"It is a humanoid trait, to 'pick on' those who are perceived to be weak."

"You were bullied." It wasn't a question, but he nodded his affirmation, anyway. "I have a hard time believing anyone ever perceived you as weak, though. A little naïve at times, maybe. Mild-mannered or soft-spoken, sure. But weak?" I flashed him a wry smile, 'That doesn't compute." He didn't answer, but even though I had a million more questions, I quelled my curiosity and changed tacks. "So, I'm getting later and later for my lesson. It's a good thing my tutor doesn't hand out demerits."

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," I said, unzipping my gig bag and taking out my cello and bow. "Music-ize me, please?"

We spent the rest of our scheduled time working alternately on theory and technique, using the duet Hugo had written as a basis for both.

As I was packing up to leave, Data offered, "If the 'whispers' you are hearing are troubling you, I can speak with whomever –"

"No," I said, cutting him off. "That would only make things worse. I talked to Counselor Troi about it, actually."

"Was her advice helpful?"

"Yes and no."

"Please elaborate?"

"She said I needed to let you know what was going on," he nodded, and I continued, "and she said to ignore it."

"Ah."

"Exactly."

"Would you prefer that we discontinue extracurricular social interaction?" he asked after a beat.

"Is that what _you_ want?" I countered.

"It would not be my first choice," he answered. "However, I have no feelings to be bruised by being the subject of gossip, and I do not wish to be the cause – however ancillary – of your distress."

"Actually," I said, leaning on my packed cello, "Counselor Troi suggested that we be _more_ visible."

"Ah," he said again. Two 'ahs' in one conversation was impressive. I wondered if there would be a gold star involved if I got him to say it a third time. "I believe I understand her reasoning. If people see us together, interacting as friends, they will realize the true nature of our relationship, and conjecture will die off."

"Something like that, yeah." I wasn't sure if I should mention that one of the people doing the conjecturing was (apparently) his ex.

"Then, we must endeavor to do as the counselor suggested. Have you selected an activity for our next outing?"

I couldn't help the blush that colored my cheeks. "I haven't," I said. "I was… I was sort of kidding about that, you know? I didn't think you really wanted to-"

"Spend time with a friend?" he finished for me. "I will expect a suggestion from you before you return to quarters after rehearsal tonight."

His tone was so matter-of-fact that I couldn't help it. I offered him a salute and a flippant, "Aye, sir," before I hoisted my cello and left.

There were a couple of officers walking down the hall in the opposite direction from me, and I saw them notice whose quarters I'd just left, but since I knew that we'd really _only_ had a music lesson, I tried to ignore them.

I was almost successful.

**(=A=)**

"What's the least romantic activity two people can do on this ship?" I asked Keiko when I stopped by the ship's arboretum later that day. I'd promised to care for the catnip she'd let me plant and dropping in on Saturday afternoons had become a habit.

"Laundry?" she suggested, only half-seriously.

"Okay," I amended, "what's the least romantic thing two people who aren't married, dating, or otherwise privy to each other's laundering needs can do on this ship?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "the _Enterprise_ is hosting a big archaeological conference next week. What could be less romantic than a bunch of lectures about ancient artifacts?"

"You're not serious?"

"About the lectures? Yes, I am," she said. "Look, I appreciate history, and I know it's important to make it come alive, but the Antiquities Board seems to go out of their way to make it stay dead. Miles and I went to the last conference because they were focusing on Celtic mythology, and it was… Let me put it this way, Zoe, I bought a new pair of sunglasses every morning just so I could sleep better in the sessions."

"Wow," I said, "that sound really horrible. But…why a different pair every day?"

"They validated parking if you bought something," she said with a grin. Turning her focus on the patch of catnip she said, "I know this was meant as a gift for Spot, but it's growing so well; do you mind if I share it with a few other cat-owners on the ship?"

"Not at all," I said. "Actually, unless you've told him, even Data doesn't know it exists. He's been trying to conserve the bag of organic catnip chews I brought back from Earth."

"That sounds like him," she said. "You're under-watering that far corner, by the way. Let's tweak the sprinkler pattern." She pulled a padd out of her coveralls, and we tested the sprinklers for my corner of the 'garden' until she was satisfied with the spray pattern. "Better," she pronounced. "Much better."

"Thank you," I said.

Her response was a merry laugh. "I should be thanking you," she said. "I like having company in here, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty."

"Well, this is… Gran would call it 'clean dirt,'" I said. "You know, it's soil, not filth."

"'Clean dirt,'" Keiko repeated. "I suppose that's true." She paused, and then walked over to one of the benches placed around the space. Dropping onto it, she patted the empty place next to her. "Sit with me a minute, Zoe."

Her suddenly serious tone made me worry what she was going to say, but I went and joined her on the bench. "What is it?"

"I've heard some people talking about you and Data. I know the two of you have a special friendship, but… I heard someone say you were living with him. That can't be right, can it?"

"It _was_ ," I said. "But not in the way people think it does. I don't know how much Data tells you or Miles, but… you know his brother Lore?"

She nodded. "I've heard he's not the nicest person."

"Sick and twisted barely _begin_ to describe him," I affirmed. "I ran into him on a starbase last February, after I'd yelled at Data for something stupid that only my teenaged brain could conjure up, and since then he's been sort of… stalking me. There was another encounter on my way home from Earth, and since my mother was off-ship, I stayed in Data's quarters for a few days."

"That must have been awkward for you," she mused.

"A little, at first, and then…  not so much," I said. "Probably it was worse for him."

"I doubt that," she countered. "Data seems comfortable with you in a way he isn't with anyone else."

"People keep saying that," I said, rolling my eyes. "I think they see what they want to see."

"Maybe," she said. "If you ever need to talk, Zoe… Data's my friend, but you are too, okay?"

"Sure," I said. "Thank you." I got up to go, but paused as I was leaving, and looked back at her. "Hey, Keiko? If Professor Benoit happens to ask, could you let him know my mother's favorite flowers are Vendarian chrysanthemums?"

She laughed. "I'll make sure he knows. See you later, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44741.90**

**(Thursday, 28 September 2367, 19:02 hours, ship's time)**

By the time the _Enterprise_ had arrived at Tagus III, I was beginning to regret having picked the opening night of the archaeology conference as my next non-date with Data. On the one hand, as Keiko had said, it wasn't at all romantic, which was good. _Wasn't it_? On the other hand, Captain Picard was the keynote speaker and, as I'd learned just that morning, my mother was also presenting at the conference.

I mean, there's not-dating and there's not-dating with your _mother_.

In any case, at about seven in the evening we'd settled into our seats near the back of the conference room that had been set up as a lecture hall, and I was already re-thinking the wisdom of my plan. We weren't sharing a dining table or dancing, or anything else remotely couple-ish, but sitting there, next to Data, I felt incredibly aware of him.

Fortunately, my mother was only a couple of seats away, sitting with Ed. He _hadn't_ proposed while they were away – it was too soon -  but his arm was draped over the back of her chair, around her shoulders, and her body was angled slightly toward his. As potential stepfathers went, he wasn't a bad candidate, I mused.

Data nudged me slightly and I realized I'd been daydreaming. I recovered quickly enough to join the polite applause heralding Captain Picard's arrival at the podium.

"Are you alright?" Data asked very softly, under the applause.

"Fine," I said. "Just… thinking…"

He seemed to accept that, but before the captain's speech began, Data asked, "I was not certain if your suggestion of this activity extended to the reception, afterward."

"I didn't know there was one," I admitted.

"There is," he said. "Attendance is not required, but as your mother is one of the presenters, if you would like to go I would be happy to extend our evening and continue to serve as your escort."

I turned my head to meet his eyes. "You _have_ to go, don't you?" I asked.

"It would be extremely noticeable if I do not attend," he confirmed.

"And I wouldn't… it wouldn't look bad if you bring a student?"

"You are sixteen, not six," he countered, using one of my own lines against me. (I was never sure if I found it sweet or annoying when he did that. Probably both.) "We are present at the lecture together, and it is not a great leap to expect us to continue on to the reception."  

"I'm not… I didn't dress for a party.

He glanced down at my outfit, causing me to blush faintly. I really _hadn't_ dressed up, but I had made an effort to look a little more put together than my typical jeans, vintage t-shirts, and combat boots would imply, opting instead for a sweater and skirt, and proper shoes. "Your attire is entirely appropriate for the occasion, Zoe."

Understand that there was no graceful way to decline his invitation, and realizing that I wouldn't have wanted to, if there had been, I made my answer casual. "Sure," I said. "Why not?"

"Do not worry," Data added in a faintly teasing tone. "There will not be dancing."

The captain began speaking then, and I settled in for an evening of boring speeches, only to see some weird flashes of blue light, and notice that – apparently magically - the captain and several of his senior officers were suddenly sporting crazy costumes. "Data what's going – oh, my god -" I couldn't help but stare, because my friend was holding a giant drumstick - turkey, I think – in his upraised hand, and his uniform had been replaced by brown robes. "I would kill for a camera right now."

He glanced down at himself, then back up at me, surprise evident on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but then there was another flash of light, and he was gone. They were ALL gone.

The people remaining in the room broke into a chaotic chorus of exclamations and suppositions, and in the center of it all was my mother, who was suddenly the ranking officer on the scene.

Striding to the podium, Mom called out, "Everyone, take your seats, please. We'll let you know what's going on shortly; in the meantime, please remain calm."

She waited for the pandemonium to settle, then tapped her comm-badge to open a channel. "Lt. Commander Harris to bridge." She waited for an acknowledgment before she continued, "Captain Picard, and most of the senior officers have just… vanished… from the conference room. Can you scan for them?"

Over the tinny speaker of my mother's comm-badge I heard the response come through, _"Ensign Anaya here. Initiating scan."_ There was a pause, and then the voice of the woman on the bridge returned. _"Commander Harris? The captain is not on the ship. Neither are Commander Riker, Lt. Commanders Data and LaForge, Lieutenant Worf, Dr. Crusher, or Counselor Troi."_

"Who has the bridge right now?" my mother asked.

" _Lieutenant Dean here,"_ came a different voice. _"I'm the senior bridge officer at the moment. I'm sending a security detail to the conference room, Commander."_

"Good idea," my mother said. "I'll try to maintain order until they arrive, then I'll come to the bridge."

The security officers arrived a few minutes later, and my friend Ray Barnett was one of the two ensigns in the group, which was good. What was not good was that the head of the detail was Lt. D'Sora. _Jenna_ , my brain corrected. _No,_ I decided, watching her arrive, walking purposefully, jaw set, eyes scanning the crowd, _definitely Lieutenant D'Sora._

The blonde woman either didn't notice me in the room, or didn't care, because she went directly to my mother. "Commander Harris," she said. "Lieutenant, D'Sora, security. What happened?"

I had resumed my seat but was near enough to my mother that I heard every word either of them said. Mom related the same thing I'd seen – flashes of blue light, wardrobe changes, and then mass disappearance.

Jenna asked her if she had seen anything else suspicious.

Mom explained that she'd really been more focused on her notes, but that she hadn't noticed anything strange. "Everything was normal," she said, "until it wasn't." It was phrasing that wouldn't have been unusual coming from my mouth. Clearly, I was – _I am_ – my mother's daughter.

"We're going to canvass the rest of the people in the room," D'Sora said. "Barnett, Costa, go to it. Commander Harris, is there anything else you can think of that might help?"

"There isn't," my mother said. "My daughter was sitting with Commander Data; you might start with her."

"Daughter?" the security officer turned.

"I think you know her," Mom said, maintaining a completely neutral tone. She glanced toward where I was sitting in the chair next to the one Data had… vacated. "Zoe, join us, please?"

I left my chair and joined them at the podium. "Mom?"

"Lieutenant D'Sora has a few questions for you."

"I doubt I saw anything you didn't," I said, "but, sure, okay." I turned to Jenna. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything you saw," she said. "From the moment you walked into the room. Your mother said you were sitting near Data?"

"I was sitting _with_ Data," I corrected. "We came together. We were chatting up until Captain Picard took the podium, and then for a few seconds after. The captain started his speech, got maybe five or ten words out, and then there were flashes of light. First, the senior officers were wearing hats – well, Data wasn't – but he was holding a turkey leg –"

"A… turkey leg?"

"Yeah, you know, like the food at a Renaissance Faire?"

"Data doesn't eat."

"Actually, he does," I said, surprised that she didn't already know, "when he wants to be social; he just doesn't _have_ to. But I don't think he had any intention of eating it. First his hand was empty, and then it wasn't, and then he was dressed like a monk."

"A monk?"

"A medieval monk," I elaborated. "Almost as though he'd been ripped out of a Shakespeare play. His hair was even different."

"His hair?"

"Yeah, he had a bald spot, and a monk's haircut, and then there was another blue flash, and then he was gone."

"He didn't say anything?"

"It all happened pretty quickly. He seemed like he was about to say something."

"But you don't know what?"

"Not a clue," I said. "Oh! There is something else…"

"What?"

"There was a woman in the front row… probably about the same age as my mother. Dark hair, business suit… she vanished, too."

D'Sora's eyes narrowed, as if she didn't believe me, but her features smoothed into professional neutrality almost immediately after. "Do you know who the woman was?"

"I don't," I said. "I think she may have been talking with the captain before he went to the podium, but I wasn't really paying attention, because Data was asking me if I was joining him at the reception later tonight."

Her eyebrows lifted in either surprise or disbelief. "Data invited you to a formal event? Dressed like that?"

I couldn't help it; I rolled my eyes at her. "First, it's not a formal event, just drinks and chatter. Second, he said my 'attire is appropriate for the occasion,' and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have said that if it wasn't true. If I'd known there was a reception when I invited him to this conference –"

She cut me off again. "You invited Data? So, you knew he would be here?"

"Well, yeah, but since the captain was the keynote speaker and people from this ship were among the presenters, it wasn't like he wouldn't have been here anyway."

"So, you knew the entire senior staff would be here. Did you have anything to do with their disappearance?"

"What?" I asked. "Are you crazy?"

"Answer the question, please," her voice seemed more brittle than it had before.

"Of _course,_ I had nothing to do with it. That's the stupidest thing I've ever –"

" _Zoe!_ " That time it was my mother cutting me off. "Lt. D'Sora," my mother said, using the command intonation I'd only rarely heard from her, "I think it's obvious that Zoe has told you everything she knows. As Captain Picard and the others are not on the ship, it should be equally obvious that a mere student could _not_ have been involved."

Jenna gave me a less-than-friendly look but nodded to my mother, "Yes, sir."

"Zoe," Mom said to me, "Thank you for your help. Why don't you go quietly inform Guinan of what's going on, and that the official reception is being postponed? I want to keep this off the comm channels." She glanced at Jenna. "Does that meet with your approval, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," D'Sora said again.

"If I don't find you in Ten-Forward by nine," Mom added, addressing me, "I'll see you at home."

"Gotcha," I said. "See you later, Mom." I flashed a smile at her, and also caught Ray Barnett's attention long enough to offer a tiny wave before I left the conference room.

**(=A=)**

I could have sworn the turbo-lift was empty when I got in it. If asked, I _would_ have sworn that the blue flash I saw was just my imagination. In any case, I jumped when a male voice said, very near my ear, "That blonde woman _really_ didn't seem to like you."

After a beat or two of recovery time, I took a look at my lift-mate. Male, tall, kind of average looking – too average? - and wearing… "You are _not_ actually an admiral," I said, eyeing his uniform. There was something off about it. Something I couldn't quite place.

"Aren't I? Pips don't lie."

"No, but the people wearing them do… sometimes. Anyway, what business is it of yours if some security lieutenant likes me or not?"

"Excellent question!" he responded gleefully. "Everything is my business if I decide it is."

"You must be pretty desperate for entertainment, then."

"Mmm. Yes and no."

"Way to be cryptic," I snarked.

He peered closely at me, and I shivered. There was definitely something weird about this guy. I moved toward the far wall of the lift. "Oh, stop shrinking silly girl. If I haven't hurt you yet, I'm not likely to. You're not Starfleet…  who are you?"

"Who am I? Who are you?"

"Q."

"Q? Q what?"

"Just Q."

"Like the character in the _James Bond_ novels?"

"James… who?"

"Bond," I repeated, imitating more than one twentieth-century actor. "James Bond." I waited a beat, but he still didn't get it. "Fictional spy created in the twentieth century by a writer who'd been sort of a real spy..." his blank look finally penetrated my babble. "And… you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Mercifully, no. In any case, I am Q… and you are…"

"On my way to Ten-Forward," I answered, recovering my equilibrium. "But my name's Zoe Harris."

"I don't remember seeing you before."

"Well, we have that in common," I said. "I'm pretty sure I've never seen you, either." He loomed forward, and then pulled back, and when he did so there was an almost palpable crackle of energy. "Did you do that?" I asked.

"I _am_ that," he answered.

"You really get a kick out of speaking in riddles, don't you?" But the turbo-lift came to a halt, and the door opened before he could answer, and when I looked back, there was no one else there. _Weird_. I shook my head to try and clear my thoughts and headed into Ten-Forward.

Unsurprisingly, Guinan met me near the doors. "Zoe," she said staring over my head at… well, at nothing, as far as I could tell. "Are you alright?"

"I think so?" I said, not entirely sure if I was. "Sorry, there was a guy in the turbo-lift and… never mind. My mother asked me to relay a message that there wouldn't be a reception tonight. Can we go somewhere a little quieter?"

She nodded and led me to an alcove near the end of the bar. "This is about the captain not being on the ship, isn't it?"

"Seriously, is there anything you _don't_ know?"

"Very little."

"Yeah, it's about that. There was a bunch of blue light and then there were costumes and then… then everyone was gone. Well, not everyone, obviously, but pretty much the entire senior staff."

"Blue flashes?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just like in the turbo-lift."

"Did the… guy… happen to mention his name?"

"He said he was Q… and he didn't appreciate my Bond joke."

"Q? Q is here?" I couldn't tell if the older woman was angry, afraid, or some combination of the two. "You spoke to him." It wasn't a question.

"He sort of… appeared… in the turbo-lift."

"He does that," she said. "You have a comm-badge, don't you?"

"I have one, yes," I said. "Sometimes I even remember to wear it."

"Make sure you have it with you, and if you see Q again… call security."

"Guinan…?"

"I'm afraid I can't explain right now, Zoe. You should go to your quarters."

She was confusing me, but at the same time, I could tell she was agitated. "Okay," I said. "Thanks." I turned to go, but she called my name again, and I turned back. "Guinan?"

"I'm not brushing you off. Q is much more dangerous than he appears. I promise to explain what I can when Captain Picard has returned to the ship."

I nodded. "Okay." The promise of a future explanation only made everything else seem weirder.

**(=A=)**

Mom finally returned to our quarters about midnight that night. "I'm sorry, kiddo," she said as she came through the doors. "Lt Dean, Lt. D'Sora, Lt. Barclay and I are trying to figure out where everyone went, and how."

"I know how," I said. "Or at least, Guinan does, and based on my really funky turbo-lift ride, I'm pretty sure she's right."

" _You_ know…" my mother shook her head, her expression bemused. "So, daughter-of-mine, what's your oh-so-scientific theory?"

"Q."

"Q who?"

"That's what I asked him," I said. "But when I mentioned a stranger in the 'lift, and blue flashes to Guinan she said it was Q. I looked him up in the knowledge-base, but there isn't much that's publicly accessible. You, with your actual clearance, might find more."

"I've heard of Q," she said, sitting in front of the computer console. "He's supposed to be omniscient or omnipotent or something. Whatever he is, I'm definitely not comfortable with you being anywhere near him." She paused. "I know you're concerned for Data –"

"Not _just_ Data –"

"- and everyone. But you need to get some rest. Maybe he'll be back by the time your class is supposed to start tomorrow."

"If he isn't… wake me up half an hour early? Someone will need to feed Spot."

"Security isn't likely to let you into an officer's quarters without explicit permission."

"Security won't have to. I'm still on his privacy lock."

"I didn't realize he'd added you in the first place."

"Data is nothing if not efficient. He didn't want me to be stuck in the corridor if he was late coming off-shift."

"That was nearly a month ago," Mom pointed out.

I shrugged. "I'm still there for music every Saturday morning, and video night on Thursdays – we skipped tonight in favor of hearing you and the captain speak at the opening of the conference, so, be honored, or something."

Her grin was as rueful as mine was wry. "When you put it that way…"

"Sorry, Mom. You know I love you and think you're awesome."

"Go to bed, Zoe, before this goes any further." But she wasn't irritated when she said it; she was amused, and as I passed her, heading to my room, she pulled me into a quick, fiercely maternal hug. "Sweet dreams."

That night, I didn't dream of Data or Lore. I dreamed of Lachlan Meade admonishing us to notice things. _Notice everything in th'world around ye, and then y'ken reproduce it in yer performances,_ he'd said. But I had no idea what I was supposed to be noticing.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44749.08**

**(Sunday, 1 October 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)**

Three days later I was on my way to feed Spot again, when Jenna ran into me in the hall. "Data isn't back yet," she pointed out.

"I know," I answered. My first question every time my mother had returned to our quarters all weekend had been 'are they back?' "I'm just going in to feed his cat."

"Data has a cat?" she seemed surprised by the idea.

"He does," I said. "An orange tabby named Spot. I thought you were friends?"

"Less so, since last year," she admitted grudgingly.

The door opened as I approached, and I saw her take note of that. I hesitated in the doorway. "He's – _they're_ safe, aren't they?" I asked. "I mean, that Q-guy had all the charm of a used flitter salesman, but I can't imagine he'd let them come to real harm. Would he?"

"I wish I knew," she said softly. Then the second part of my statement seemed to register with her. "You've met Q?"

I shrugged. "Briefly. In the hall outside Ten-Forward. He seemed disappointed that I hadn't heard of him before."

"Sounds about right," she snorted. "At least, based on what I've heard."

I took a long, appraising, look at her, and for a moment I didn't see a bitter ex-girlfriend, but a woman who was worried about a friend and trying hard to do her job with really nothing to go on. "If it matters," I offered, "no one among the civilians is afraid, and that means they trust that you're doing a good job standing in for Lt. Worf."

She managed the semblance of a smile and looked like she was about to say something when her comm-badge chirped. She stepped aside to answer it, and I moved all the way into Data's quarters, where Spot was curled up on the couch with her head propped on the arm, as if she'd been watching – or at least listening to – our conversation. I fed her and then popped into the bathroom to clean her litter pan while she ate. Afterward, I sat cross-legged on the couch, knowing she would come and sit in my lap.

"I know you miss Data," I told the cat, running my hands through her soft fur. "I miss him, too." Spot's response was to head-but my hand every time I stopped petting her. I stayed a few minutes longer, then moved the cat off my lap. "I'll be back to give you dinner, if he's not back by then, Cat-ling."

I refilled her water dish and picked up her empty food bowl, so I could recycle it. Just as I was stepping into the corridor there was another flash of blue light followed by and the somewhat bewildered voice of the android whose quarters I was leaving. "Zoe?"

I turned around to see him standing there, still in monk's robes – robes that were considerably dirtier than when I'd last seen them – "Data? Is it really you?"

"It is –" he started to say, but he was cut off by me barreling into him and wrapping him in an impulsive hug, one that he returned. "- me," he finished, once he had recovered. "May I ask why you were in my quarters?"

I stepped away from him, wrinkling my nose. "Do I get to ask why _you_ smell like a barn?" But I didn't wait for an answer. "I've been coming here twice a day to feed Spot. You _do_ know it's been two and a half days since you… vanished?"

He processed that information. "Interesting. It has been roughly half that time for us."

"So, Q can bend time?"

His gaze turned sharp. "You have been speaking with Q?"

"One brief conversation. He didn't seem all that powerful…  more like, I don't know…bored and lonely."

"That is likely more accurate than you realize. However, he is _also_ both powerful and extremely dangerous."

"Will you tell me about him, sometime? I get the feeling there are some pretty interesting stories."

"Another accurate assessment." The comm-system chimed, and he went to answer it, confirming that he would be heading to the bridge shortly. "I am afraid I cannot tell you any of those stories right now, Zoe. I must change and report for duty."

I grinned. "You might want to do more than just _change,_ but I'll get out of your way. I'm just glad you're back. Although, I'm kind of wishing we'd stuck to just doing video night on Thursday."

"Your point is well made," he said. "Perhaps our next activity should be on a night other than a Thursday. It is my turn to choose."

"Works for me," I said, and then, even though he really was kind of rank, I stepped close to him again and kissed him on the cheek. "Spot missed you," I said softly. "I missed you, too."

He didn't answer, but the corners of his mouth quirked upwards and he brushed a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes.

I left the room with my spirits much lighter than they'd been in days, and by the time I got back to my own room, I was practically humming.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44749.94**

**(1 October 2367, 17:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Okay, Zoe, I'm turning into a prune," Ray Barnett said, hoisting himself out of the ship's pool rather than using the steps at either end. "I'm gonna go change. You about done?"

We'd been meeting on Sunday afternoons since my school year had begun, tracking the time so I could fulfill my physical education requirement for school. Surfing on the holodeck, it turned out, didn't actually earn credit. "I want to do six more laps," I said. I'd been pushing myself to increase my total every week.

"Dinner after?"

"I can't tonight," I said. "I'm having dinner with Mom and Ed and Data."

"Data?" he asked, only slightly surprised. "But isn't your vid night usually Thursday?"

"He comm'd with the invitation a couple of hours after he got back to the ship this morning. Apparently, he feels the need to thank me for taking care of Spot."

"Wow, Zo', dinner with the parents…" Ray teased.

"It's not like that," I said defensively. "You _know_ it's not like that." I aimed a well-earned splash of water in his direction.

"Heeey," he said. "I'm teasing. I know you and Commander Data are just friends."

"I'm sorry. It's just… people keep talking and…"

"And I'm supposed to be on your side." His tone softened, and he squatted at the edge of the pool. "As your official 'brother from another mother,' I formally apologize," he said. "Finish up. I'll walk you home when you're done." He left for the changing rooms and I ducked under the water and did six more laps that way.

For a moment when I got out of the pool, it seemed like the hand offering me a towel didn't belong to Ray but was actually attached to the not-admiral from the turbolift. Q. He winked at me, and then he was gone, and my friend, back in his uniform, was watching me. "You sure you're okay, Zoe?"

I wrapped the towel around myself, and then squeezed water out of my pony-tailed hair. "I'm fine," I said.

I went to change, but my bright mood from earlier that day had become somewhat dimmer, and for the rest of the night I was convinced I was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This chapter takes place around the season 4 episodes "The Nth Degree" and "QPid." Ensign Anaya is a canon character; she was at the helm in the episode either just before or just after QPid. Lt. Jenna D'Sora is, of course, Jenna from "In Theory," (but in my version of the Trekiverse her attempt at a relationship with Data took place almost a year earlier than it actually does in the show.). Lt. Dean is an older lieutenant whom we first meet fencing with Captain Picard in the teaser some other episode. Ray Barnett is my own creation, originally introduced in chapter 32 of CRUSH.


	10. Drumbeats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe has another nightmare, and finally tells her mother how she and Data really got Lore's data solid out of her mouth.

**Drumbeats**

**Stardate 44765.55**

**(Saturday, 7 October 2367, 10:17 hours, ship's time)**

The ship was dead in space. Well, not dead-dead. Power, air, food replicators -  those things were all perfectly functional, but we were, apparently, limited to the slow crawl of impulse power. As a result, everyone was on edge.

"So, who is the admiral who's coming?" I asked Data as he drilled me on scales and arpeggios. He called this 'going back to the foundations of technique.' _I_ called it 'being stupid enough to ask an android to be my music teacher.'

"Admiral Norah Satie," he answered. "Relax your left hand; you are straining unnecessarily."

"Everyone's really tense about her visit. Lt. Nguyen in the aquatics lab said one of the med-techs has been coming in every two hours just to watch the fish."

"Drop your right shoulder and use your entire arm in your bow stroke." I glared at him because Seth had made similar comments and I was annoyed that someone so creepy had been right, but he ignored my look and asked. "Is there something beneficial about watching fish?"

"It's supposed to be calming, or something."

"Ah! So, if this medical technician is making frequent visits to the aquatics laboratory…"

"…then he must be really nervous about something," I finished for him. I played the last scale again, paying attention to the position of my shoulder. "Like that?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Please repeat that scale, using the same arm position."

"Remind me again why I wanted you to be my only cello teacher?"

"I will happily do so," he said, "after you repeat the scale."

Grudgingly, I played the scale again, and then, when he made a repeat request, I played it a third time. "Happy now?" I asked.

"I believe 'satisfied' would be a more accurate assessment. I will now remind you that you were uncomfortable continuing to work on your music with Lt. Starker because you felt that his behavior toward you was 'skeevy.' As well, there is no one else among the _Enterprise_ personnel who is qualified to teach a musician of your caliber, and – "

"Data…"

"I am aware you meant the original question rhetorically." He didn't explain why he'd chosen to answer it anyway.

"Actually, I was going to ask you if Admiral Satie knew about this." I stuck my tongue out, displaying the metal tongue-stud I'd had Dr. Crusher insert in the hole that had been vacated when we'd removed the one Lore had inserted. "Or rather, does she know about… about what happened at Starbase Twelve?"

"A report was filed, and therefore it is possible that the admiral is aware of the incident, but it is not typical for a flag officer to investigate such an event."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Do _you_ know why she's coming?"

"That information has not been provided to me."

"Would you tell me, if you did know?"

"That would depend on the whether the reason for the admiral's visit was subject to security protocols," he said. "Zoe, it is unlike you to ask about Starfleet business."

I shrugged. "As I said, _everyone_ is tense. Me, included."

"I do not believe you have cause for concern," he said.

I chose not to argue with him, and refocused on my lesson, bur in my head, I kept hearing the chord progression that always means doom in a horror movie.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44778.72**

**(Thursday, 12 October 2367, 05:37 hours, ship's time)**

_"Would you like me to repeat the question, Ms. Harris?"_

_I was sitting in the same conference room where, five weeks before, I'd been telling Captain Picard and the rest of the senior officers of the Enterprise what had happened to me at Starbase Twelve, but this time, instead of sharing the space with people who cared about my well-being, I was across the table from Admiral Satie, the woman who'd been terrorizing the ship for the better part of a week._

_Well, actually, I was across from Admiral Satie and her Betazoid assistant, a civilian 'consultant' named Sabin Genestra. Rumors on the ship said he was either her lover or her illegitimate son, but whatever else he might have been, he was seriously creepy._

_"Yes, please," I said._

_"How did you and Commander Data remove Lore's data solid from your tongue?"_

_I kissed him, I didn't tell her. I kissed him, and he didn't stop me. I kissed him, and he kissed me back and then I ran, and all I can think of now is that I want to kiss him again._

_Out loud, I said, "Through a process of experimentation, we determined that the release mechanism would respond to the chemicals present in Da – in Commander Data's saliva. He…applied some to the stud in my mouth."_

_"And the data solid was released?"_

_"It took a second or so. I spit it into my hand and gave it to him."_

_"What did Commander Data do with the data solid?"_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"Do you know where Commander Data put the data solid that was retrieved from your mouth?"_

_I shook my head. "I don't know. Why would I know?"_

_"Isn't it true that you and Commander Data spend a significant amount of time together? Isn't it true that you are the only one of his students to be included on his notification list? Isn't it true that you have access to his quarters?"_

_She was battering me with questions, and I couldn't think fast enough to give appropriate answers, so I responded to the last one, first, "Only so I can feed his cat," I said. "No one else can get close to her." I had been in the room with them for two hours, and I was tired, hungry, and punchy. Even worse, I was alone: my mother had been refused entry on the grounds that I'd been declared a competent minor the previous January, and that she would receive a transcript of the session. "And I have no idea who is or isn't on his notify list. Why would I? He's my tutor."_

_"Do you deny your earlier statement that the two of you are friends?"_

_"No. I'm just saying, I have no reason to know where he put the data solid. Why don't you ask him?"_

_"Watch your tone, young woman," the Admiral said. She and Genestra exchanged looks, and then she held a brief whispered conversation with him. When they turned back to me, she had returned to the simpering woman she'd pretended to be when I first walked into the room. "What makes you think we haven't asked Commander Data about you, Ms. Harris? What makes you think he didn't tell us everything?"_

_"If you had you wouldn't be asking me!" I shouted._

_"Calm down, Ms. Harris." Genestra said the words this time and fixed me with his black-eyed gaze. "You will calm down," he instructed, and I could feel my brain turning inside out. "What was on the data solid, Ms. Harris? Zoe? Zoe, tell us the message Lore sent to Commander Data."_

_"I don't know."_

_"You **do** know."_

_"I don't," I said. "I swear I don't."_

_"How did Commander Data administer his saliva?"_

_"He… I…"_

_"Tell us, Zoe! Tell us everything!"_

_"No. No, no, no. No! NO!"_

_Those black eyes came closer, his hands reached for me. I tried to get out of the chair and tripped over something, over nothing and landed on the carpeted surface of the deck._

The impact of my body on the floor broke me out of my dream, but it was the sudden flare of light and my mother's worried voice that truly brought me back to myself. "Mom?"'

She crossed my room in two steps and crouched near me on the floor. "You were screaming, and then there was a thud."

I looked around, finally realizing I wasn't actually in my bed. "I was dreaming," I said. "Nightmaring, really. That's not a word, is it?"

"No," my mother said. "It's not."

"Well, it should be. That man… the admiral's aide? Mr. Genestra? He was rolling my mind, and then he tried to grab me, and I fell."

"Looks like you fell out of bed, as well."

I blinked at her, my brain still not entirely awake. "Um… yeah. Looks like."

"I should never have let them question you," said Mom. "Can you get up?"

I looked down, saw myself tangled in blankets. "Um…"

"Give it a moment," she said. "Zoe, I'm worried about your dreams – your nightmares. I hoped if I let you keep the piercing in your tongue it might help, but they're getting worse. I was with you when Admiral Satie talked to you. No one grabbed you and Sabin Genestra barely glanced at you. All they asked about was whether Simon Tarses had ever spoken to you when he visited the aquatics lab."

"I know," I said. "It's just…"

"What is it?" She reached out and smoothed my hair away from my forehead. "Zoe, honey, whatever it is… you know you can tell me."

"Can I?" I asked her. "And if I do, will you promise not to judge? Not to get angry?"

"Zoe, sweetie, whatever you did, it can't be that bad."

_I kissed Data, Mom,_ I thought to myself. I wanted to tell her, wanted the mom-advice that would be so different from the counselor's, not that Counselor Troi wasn't sympathetic. I just don't think she knew how messed up I was. _I kissed Data, and he kissed me back, and now I'm obsessing over when I might get to kiss him again, and I'm scared as much because he never did tell me what Lore's message was, as because I might never get the chance._

"Could you… could you come with me to my counseling session today? I think… I think maybe there's some stuff you need to know."

"I can do that," she said.

"Could you also call me out of my morning classes?" I asked. "I wasn't sleeping well _before_ I had that nightmare, and now I'm all tired and wired and weird."

She peered at me as if trying to decide if I was just trying to avoid class, or if I really meant it, and whatever she saw in my face seemed to convince her that staying home would be a good idea. "I will, if you promise to rest. No music. No vids. No reading."

"Deal." I said. Well, I meant to say it, but it came out as a yawn.

"Let's get you back into bed."

She helped me untangle my sheets and blankets and looked away when I asked her to, so she wouldn't see how awkward I was when I got up – I was never graceful when I was tired – and then she waited while I changed into a fresh tank top and pajama pants because my original pair was sweaty and gross.

"All set?"

"Yeah." I slid down into the sheets and let her tuck me in as if I were a five-year-old.

She must have caught my thought – the way mothers do – because she grinned down at me. "You're so mature and independent most of the time, kiddo. I forget sometimes that you're still so young."

"Counselor Troi says half my problems are just from being sixteen."

"She has a point."

"She _also_ says that getting my own flitter for Christmas or my birthday would help me improve."

Laughing, my mother leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Nice try, Zoificus. I'm pretty sure the counselor said nothing of the kind."

"Well… no. But it still might help."

"Christmas is ten weeks away, Zoe, and your birthday's a month past that. If you're so keen to worry about the future, consider that you have college entrance exams in two weeks."

"Gee thanks," I grumbled. "Now I _really_ won't be able to sleep. Whoever decided to schedule college boards for Halloween is completely evil."

She laughed again, and then got up from the edge of my bed. "And on that note, dear child-of-mine, I will leave you to your slumber." She paused at the door, "Computer, lights out. Goodnight, Zoe. I love you."

I smiled into the darkness in her general direction. "Love you, too, Mom."

**(=A=)**

"Commander Harris – may I call you Emily?" Counselor Troi greeted my mother as warmly as she typically spoke to me.

"Of course, Counselor."

"Deanna," Troi corrected. "I keep telling Zoe to use my first name; perhaps it will help her if you lead by example."

"Deanna, then," Mom said. "Zoe had another violent nightmare early this morning. This time she fell out of bed."

"Zoe has a powerful imagination," Deanna agreed. "Her dreams are quite vivid, and she is more adept than most humans her age at remembering them." She turned to me, "Can you tell me what you dreamed last night?"

I relayed as much of the dream-interrogation as I could, focusing on their questions about the tongue stud. While I talked, the counselor replicated a mocha for me, hot chocolate for herself, and plain coffee for my mother, who seemed faintly amused that counseling sessions were a mix of clinical psychology and coffee klatsch.

"I was with Zoe when she _did_ talk with the admiral," Mom said. "Nothing she described actually happened."

"Except for the simpering," I put in.

"Zoe…" Mom said in her warning tone, but she glanced at the counselor and allowed. "Alright. The admiral did… simper."

"I suspect," Deanna said, "that Zoe would have dreamed about being questioned by the admiral and her assistants even if she hadn't met them at all. The entire crew has been anxious since the warp drive failed, and Admiral Satie's presence here has only exacerbated that."

"Her dream last night wasn't a reaction to speaking with the admiral?"

"It was… and it wasn't." Way to be vague, Counselor. "What I mean is, her visit with Admiral Satie and Mr. Genestra gave her the characters for her dream, but the real subject isn't the interrogation itself, it's -" She stopped herself. "Zoe, perhaps you should explain."

I met the counselor's eyes and she gave me an encouraging nod and a warm smile. "Okay," I said to her. "Mom, my dreams… they're not really about the admiral or the Borg or anything else I keep telling you about." I saw her look of confusion. "I mean they _are_ , on the surface, but really, they're _not._ " I could tell she was getting impatient. "They're about Lore. And Data. Mostly Data, actually."

"I don't understand …"

"We didn't… I didn't… I never told you the specifics of how Data and I got Lore's tongue stud out of my mouth." I paused to swig some of my coffee-drink. Strength in sugar and caffeine, and all that. "I told you it was keyed to Data's saliva, but I didn't tell you… I never told you how we… applied it."

"Zoe, whatever it is, it's alright…" She stretched out her hand, and I took it with my free one. "Just tell me."

I gave her the rundown of the time in Data's lab, the fact that Lore had basically told us how to release it, the fact that we'd both come to the same conclusion, but that Data had been unwilling to act on it without first exhausting every other option. "…and you were going to be home soon," I said. "So, I kissed him. I kissed him, and he didn't stop me, and I ran from him."

Her hand stayed firmly wrapped around mine. Her expression only grew softer. The counselor, on the other hand, said, "There's more."

"Yeah," I said. "There's more… there's not knowing what was on that data solid, and not knowing why he kissed me back, and both _wanting_ and _not wanting_ to know why, and being cheated out of a proper first kiss with him." I was close to ranting again, and I was covering ground I'd already walked with the counselor (all of it) and with Data himself (some of it) but it felt good to release it to my mother.

"Oh, Zoificus," she said softly. "I should have guessed something had changed between you two."

"But it hasn't, Mom… not really… because whatever that kiss was or wasn't – hey!" I interrupted myself, giggling, "It's Schrodinger's Kiss!"

"Zoe, focus." The counselor's calming tones brought me back to a sort of mental 'center.'

"Right, sorry. Whatever it did or didn't mean, I'm still a student, and under age. And he's my…" I started to say tutor, but while that was technically true, that wasn't how I thought of Data any more, and hadn't been, really, for a long time. "He's my friend."

My mother was silent for a long time. Then she released my hand, but it was only so she could pick up her coffee cup. She sipped some of the beverage and grimaced, probably because it was no longer hot. Then she looked from me to the counselor and back, settling on me, her fond expression the one I generally referred to as her 'gushy Mom look.'

"Data must have been very confused when you ran away mid-kiss," she said.

"It wasn't quite… I mean, I pulled away as soon as the stud came loose."

"Still," she said. I watched her take a breath. _Notice everything_ , Lachlan Meade had kept telling us. In that moment I noticed how many of my mannerisms I shared with her. And I noticed something else… she wasn't angry or disappointed or weirded out. If anything, she seemed… relieved. Or maybe resigned. Or maybe… a bit of both.

"Mom?"

Again, she made sure to include Counselor Troi in her statement. "I suppose I should be angry. You _are_ only a student; Data _is_ a line officer, as well as your tutor. But… I'm not surprised something happened between you two. I spent the summer getting to know him better," she reminded us. "I wouldn't say he pined for you, or anything close to that…"

"No," Deanna agreed. "Pining would be a stretch."

"But he definitely missed you," Mom continued. "Zoe, none of us are blind. I'm sure Deanna here isn't the first person to notice the connection between you. I'm not a counselor, but it seems to me that you have two choices. You either give your relationship with Data time to mature, and see what happens, or you back away, and keep things professional."

"There are other options," Troi pointed out. "Most of which are inappropriate as Zoe is still young."

"I'm over the age of consent," I interjected.

"True. But we all know that consent laws are about protection, not permission. And I think you need to share your other fears with your mother, Zoe."

I nodded. "The other viable option is to drop his class, drop cello lessons, quit the quartet, and just ignore the fact that Data even exists, but I don't want to do that. The thing is, though, there've been rumors… I know you've heard them… and there's the other reason I keep having bad dreams…"

I paused again, this time to collect myself. "Mom, I'm terrified that Lore wants Data with him." I glanced at the counselor. We hadn't discussed that point yet. "And I'm scared he'll come after me again. But Mom, the thing that scares me more than anything is the thought that someone will decide his friendship with me is wrong, and they'll… and they'll take him apart."

"Oh, Zoe…" my mother left her chair and pulled me out of mine and into a solid hug. Oh, baby-girl. That's not something you should ever have to worry about."

I didn't answer her. I didn't have the words. I just let her hold me a bit longer. Then the counselor suggested we end the session, and I agreed, as did Mom, although I had to ask, "Am I done with nightmares now?"

"Perhaps," Deanna said. "But perhaps not. You still have some unresolved issues. We'll talk about it next week, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright."

"And, Emily… call me if you have any questions?"

"I'll do that," my mother agreed.

We left Counselor Troi's office together. Outside the door, Mom said, "I'm glad you finally told me everything that happened between you."

"Me, too," I said. "But I'm sure you think I'm crazy, reacting this way over a kiss, when Tev and I were – "

"No," she said softly. "This is different. T'vek is a lovely boy, and I know he treated you very well, but he was – and still his – very much a boy, and the pair of you were little more than children. You're _not_ a child anymore, Zoe. And Data is…"

"…definitely not a boy," I finished for her, and we shared a mother-daughter grin, but mine faded quickly. "Are you going to make me stop hanging out with him? We usually do vid night after quartet rehearsal and that's tonight…"

"No," she said.

"No, we're not doing vid night?"

"No, I'm not going to stop you. In this, at least, you need to make your own choices. I trust you Zoe. I also trust Data not to harm you."

"He would _never_!"

"I know."

"Mom?" I asked as we entered the 'lift that would take her to the deck where she worked, and me to my afternoon classes. "Is it normal? To change so much in a year? I feel like I'm not even the same person I was when you first – when I first came here."

She reached out to ruffle my hair, but stopped herself, and gave me a less intense version of her 'gushy Mom look' instead. "In some ways, you're not the same person," she said. "But in most ways, you're still you, just… older, and more experienced, and maybe even a little wiser."

I laughed. "Maybe?"

"Mmm. A very little bit."

"One more thing…" The lift was approaching my deck. "Data… Data doesn't know I'm still having bad dreams, and he really doesn't know I'm… you know…"

"Not to worry, kiddo. My lips are sealed."

The turbolift came to a halt. "See you at dinner?" I asked.

"Count on it," she answered.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44780.50**

**(Thursday, 12 October 2367, 21:15 hours, ship's time)**

Quartet rehearsal had, for once, started and ended exactly on time, and for the first time in a week, the tension that had pervaded the ship was gone. Admiral Satie had declared her mission successful, or at least over – I wasn't privy to the details – but whatever they were, she was set to depart early the next morning.

Good rehearsals always jazzed me, and the four of us had really clicked that night, so it wasn't unusual that I was practically bouncing as Data and I walked toward his quarters for video night. What was unusual was that when we ran into Jenna D'Sora coming out of the turbo-lift we were about to enter, I didn't let her brief disdainful glance in my direction phase me at all.

"Data!" she exclaimed. "Just the man I hoped I'd see." She laid her hand on his arm, and I saw him glance at it before meeting her eyes.

"Do you require my assistance with something, Jenna?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd be up for an impromptu gathering in the forward observation lounge. It's Lt. Salazar's birthday." She lifted her other hand, waggling the instrument case she held. "Maria said I had to bring my clarinet. I'm sure an oboe would only improve things."

I half-expected him to take her up on the offer. After all, they'd dated the year before, and while I was never certain which of them had ended their relationship, her recent behavior toward me made it pretty obvious that she, at least, wanted a second chance.

"Thank you for the invitation," he said in his usual mild tone. I saw him move slightly, but I couldn't tell if he'd shrugged off her hand or if she'd withdrawn it on her own. "However, Zoe and I have plans this evening, and Spot is waiting for her evening snack. Please wish Lt. Salazar a happy birthday on my behalf."

"I'll do that," she said, deflating slightly. "Perhaps we could do something another night?"

"Perhaps," he answered, with the faintest cool tone in his voice, and then stepped into the 'lift. "Zoe, may I take your cello?"

Ordinarily, I would have thanked him for asking, but declined the offer. That night, I handed it over to him. "Sure," I said. "Thanks." I joined him in the lift and the doors closed just as Jenna turned away and headed down the corridor. Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I waited the length of time it took to move three decks before I said, "You could have gone with her; I would have understood."

"I am certain that you would have," he said. "However, we _do_ have plans, and Spot _is_ awaiting her treat. As well, I am looking forward to learning what video you believe 'reminds you' of me.'"

I could feel myself blushing. "Oh. That. Actually, it's based on a novella by Isaac Asimov."

"You have read Asimov?"

"I read lot, actually. But yes, I've read Asimov. Or… I've been reading Asimov. Lately. Well, his fiction, anyway."

"Ah. What else do you read?"

I gave him a quizzical look. "Since when do you ask about my reading habits?" I asked. "No, don't answer that… I read lots of things. Mostly fiction, though I have a thing for memoirs and essays." The lift doors opened on the officer's deck and we left it together, heading for his quarters. "Mom used to read to me when I was very little – a chapter a night and she did all the voices – remember that for the future.  When I was about… six, I guess… she was posted back on a starship for an extended mission, and she left before we finished _Anne of Green Gables._ I got impatient to know how the story ended. I waited as long as I could – about ten days, which, trust me, is impressive for a six-year-old girl – and then I picked up the book and finished it on my own."

While I'd been talking we'd arrived at his quarters, and by the time I finished my story he'd given Spot her evening treat – he was still doling out the catnip chews I'd brought him - and I had replicated tea and snacks for the two of us and had taken my place on his couch. "It was the last book we read together. Although, _now_ we fight over library books and who gets to read new bestsellers first."

Data came to sit next to me. "Is having a parent read to you a typical childhood experience?"

Shrugging, I answered, "I guess so. I mean… I'm pretty sure all my friends had similar experiences. Why? Are you planning to read bedtime stories to Spot?"

He glanced at the cat, who was in the middle of the floor, playing with her catnip chew. "No," he said. "I do not believe she would appreciate such an activity." He turned back to me and cocked his head slightly. "Even if I 'did all the voices.'"

I laughed. "Maybe not. But I'd give anything to see you try."

"Perhaps I will make an attempt after our video," he said. "If we delay much longer, it is likely that you will be unable to function at peak efficiency in class tomorrow."

"Yeah," I teased. "You're right. And my math tutor is really strict about people not sleeping through his class. Get the lights?"

"Computer, dim lights by seventy percent. Engage entertainment system. Play video…" He paused. "You have not told me the title of this week's 'movie.'"

I smiled in the semi-darkness and told him the name of the video I'd chosen.

He continued his instructions as if he'd known the title all along. "Play video _Bicentennial Man._ "

Sometimes during video night, we talked during the film, creating our own running commentary of observations. That night, we watched in silence. I'd seen it before when I was seven or eight, in a hotel, while on tour with my father – it had been the only non-porn offering in a language we both understood – but I'd forgotten that the filmmakers had added a romantic subplot.

After the credits rolled and we'd finished our tea and the vegetables and dip I'd chosen as an alternative to popcorn, I turned to Data intending to ask him what he thought, but even though his eyes weren't flickering back and forth, he was wearing his 'processing' expression.

When he still hadn't spoken after a full minute, I reached out and touched his shoulder. "Data? Are you alright?"

"I am sorry, Zoe. Yes. I am… fine."

"I should have checked with you before I picked this film," I said. "Andrew's attempts to understand humor are what reminded me of you… I didn't think about the rest."

"It was not a poor choice," he assured. "I, too, have read the novella. The creators of this presentation took many liberties with the original story."

"Yeah, they did."

"The romance between Andrew and Portia was not part of the novella."

"No, it wasn't. I thought they did a good job of integrating it, though. The performances were good."

"It is… a different experience seeing it played out on a screen, as opposed to merely absorbing the text."

"I _always_ feel that way about vids that are based on books."

"Does it make the story seem more 'real' to you?"

"Yeah kind of. Although sometimes the way plots are compressed is a little annoying. I read somewhere that it's best to think of most vids as though they were the result of the main character selling their story to a tabloid."

His eyebrows quirked at that. "An interesting perspective." He took a beat, then asked in a voice that was uncharacteristically tentative, especially for him, "Do you believe it is possible for a romantic relationship between an android and an organic being to be successful?"

It crossed my mind to remind him that we'd been watching a movie – a story – but I realized that for him, it really wasn't _just_ a story. Not that it mattered, because I was confident in my answer. "I think if it's the right android and the right 'organic being,' it could happen," I said. "I mean, even human/human relationships take work, so I'm guessing that kind of relationship would require _more_ work, but why wouldn't it be possible?"

"My 'track record' with romantic relationships has hardly been successful thus far."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to help you with this one, Data," I said softly. "You seemed to do okay with Jenna last year."

"I did… until I did not," he said, and I had to suppress a grin at his use of my phrasing.

"You could always try again. You've changed a lot in the last year, and she's clearly still into you… at least at the moment."

"No." He said the word as if there were a lot of weight behind it.

"No… what?"

"I have considered a second attempt at a romantic liaison with Jenna and I have discarded the idea. I believe the reason it did not 'work' between us last year is less because of what I am and more that I simply do not wish to have a romantic relationship with her."

I couldn't help but clap both my hands together in delight. "Data! You just confirmed what I told you six weeks ago. Not _everything_ has to do with you being an android. I cannot believe it took you this long to get the point."

"I believed you were referring to certain issues with our temporary cohabitation."

If I'd been eating or drinking anything, that sentence would have elicited a perfect spit-take. "Could you maybe not refer to me staying here that way? It makes it seem like…" I trailed off. "Anyway, my point was that it's not an android/organic thing, it's just a… a person/person thing."

"A… 'person/person thing?'"

"Yeah, you know, when you find the right person… the one who makes you aspire to be your best self, supports you when you need it, talks you down off the ledge when you're threatening to jump… the kind of person you always look forward to spending time with, who you can talk to about anything… or just be quiet with… or… just sort of… click with. Like in rehearsal tonight. The way we were all on the same wavelength – we've never played better as a group."

"You are comparing romantic liaisons to music?"

"Hi, have you met me? I compare _everything_ to music."

"Hm." He refilled my teacup from the warming pot, and I picked it up and held it in both hands.

"I have a question for you now, if that's okay."

"Of course, Zoe."

"It's kind of personal," I warned.

His response was just to offer his encouraging look.

"In _Bicentennial Man_ , most of Andrew's 'upgrades' are to make him more human in the physical – no, the physiological – sense. He wants to breathe and bleed and eat and have sex..." I trailed off. "But you already have those functions… don't you?"

"That is correct, but that is also information you already possessed. What is your question?" Sometimes, it seemed like he really did know me too well.

"You've talked about wanting to be human, but… I always thought you meant it in a more… what's the word? Oh! Metaphysical! I thought you meant it in a more metaphysical sense. I thought you meant you wanted emotional context and a thorough understanding of the human _condition_. Am I wrong… or …?" I grimaced. "I don't think I'm asking this correctly."

"You are 'asking it' very well. And you are not 'wrong.' I do not wish for physical change. However, in both the original novella, and in the video we just watched, Andrew also wished for mortality. In the latter case, he also wished to age, and eventually die, with the woman he loved."

"Do you? Wish to 'age and eventually die?'"

"Do you recall me sharing that I had considered the possibility of marriage someday?"

I nodded. He'd mentioned it in one of the letters he'd sent over the summer. "I remember."

"When I discussed the possibility of marriage with Counselor Troi, she informed me that the ability to grow old together was considered a crucial part of marriages between most humanoids."

"But you won't… oh. But… some humanoids – well, some humans, anyway – engage in contract marriages where that isn't even a factor. Though, I don't see the point in that. If you don't want to commit to some version of forever, why bother getting married at all? It's not like anyone cares who's sleeping with whom as long as it's all consensual. Unless you're marrying a Starfleet officer and notification and benefits are a thing… but that seems really… cold, somehow."

"Nevertheless," he said, gently bringing our conversation back on track, "aging together is an important element of most humanoid marriages."

"Then I guess you're back to… if it's the right person, you figure out a way to make it work. After all, video-Andrew helped Portia to extend her life far beyond what's considered 'normal' for most humans." In the dimmed lighting his features were merely pale, the gold sheen to his skin effectively neutralized. I knew I was staring at him, but I couldn't help imagining what he'd look like with more organic coloring, and the image in my head made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. "Someone who wants you for you will be able to accept everything that comes with the package. And I'm pretty sure you'll figure out the emotional stuff someday."

"I am honored that you have such faith in me," he said softly.

I wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it. I wanted to kiss him senseless. I did neither. Instead, I snorted and said, in a rueful tone, "Yeah, well, I also have faith that chocolate should count as a vegetable, so… consider the source." I avoided looking at him, and began collecting our used cups and plates, murmuring, "Data, there's something you should know…"

"Computer, increase illumination to eighty percent of normal," he said, before returning his focus to me. "What is it, Zoe?"

"I had a major nightmare last night – this morning, really – about Admiral Satie asking me about you and Lore and the data solid. It was violent… I woke up on the floor."

"But you are uninjured?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. But… Mom knew – and I'm guessing you do, too – that all she really asked me was if I'd ever spoken with Simon Tarses when he came to watch the fish."

"I read the transcript of your session with her."

"Anyway, she came to my session with the counselor earlier today, and I told her what the cause of my dreams _really_ was… and how we really got the data solid out of my mouth."

"Ah."

"I just… I thought you should know."

"Was your mother angry?"

"Actually, she was more concerned with the fact that I'm still having nightmares. I mean, she did ask if you were any good…" I trailed off. "I really shouldn't tease you about that, should I?"

"I do not mind."

"Seriously?" I turned to face him.

"When you tease me, you are treating me as you would any other person whom you are close to," he said. "As well, when you tease me about aspects of our relationship, it shows that you trust me, that you trust… us."

"That's… annoyingly accurate and impressively insightful," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe."

I moved back to the couch to retrieve my shoes, because kicking them off had become as much a part of our video night routine as sharing pots of tea was, and the thought struck me. "Data… when you say I'm showing trust in 'us,' what do you mean? I mean… technically you're my tutor, but when it comes to music, lately it feels more like a partnership than a teacher-student dynamic, and, we're friends… but there are different kinds of friendships… and… sometimes it seems like we're on a slow trajectory toward something more… and then… people think we're dating… and… I don't know if things are black and white for _you_ – and if they are, I'm incredibly envious - but… sometimes, I'm so confused."

I finished zipping my second boot – the pair was a favorite of mine: forest green, soft faux suede, mid-calf height but kind of slouchy – and stood up to leave, but he was standing right in front of me. "I am also unable to adequately define our relationship," he admitted. "I believe Counselor Troi's suggestion that we engage in a greater number of public activities had two expected results: one, is that, as we have discussed, we would be seen together engaging in non-romantic activities."

"And the other?"

"I believe she wishes it to be a time for us to 'get to know each other' in a less intense environment than our musical Saturday Sessions."

"Does weekly video night defeat that plan, do you think?"

"Would you prefer to discontinue it?"

"No. Would you?"

"I find the exchanges we have during and after each video to be extremely enlightening," he said. "As well, it is time spent with together that does not require either of us to play an expected role."

We'd discussed that before, as well… the different roles people take on in public, in private, in different situations.

"So, what you're saying is…"

"I am saying that there is no deadline looming over us, Zoe, nor are we in a race. We have ample time to discover – together – what we may or may not be to each other."

"Have you considered taking up counseling as a second career?" I asked. "You're getting really good at the whole talking-around-a-question-without-really-answering-it thing."

His lips curved into something approaching a smirk. "Thank you, Zoe. I have learned from the best."

I laughed, and balled my fist, intending to give him an affectionate punch in the upper arm, but he caught my wrist. "You do not wish to do that," he said. "You would break your hand."

"Even at low impact?" He nodded, and I blushed faintly. "I forgot… I mean… not really… but…"

He seemed to understand my frustration, because he pulled me into a brief embrace and surprised me by dropping a light kiss on my forehead before he let me go. "It is nearly midnight, and I have the bridge overnight. I will escort you home." He picked up my cello before I could and headed out of the room.

In the corridor, I protested, "It's out of your way."

"Not significantly.  Please do not argue. You will only cause a delay."

I rolled my eyes, but at the same time I was grumbling I realized Data was, in his own way, expressing a kind of affection. We made the brief journey in companionable silence, and when we got to my door, I took his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. Then I took my cello from him, said, "G'night, Data," and went inside for a night of blissful nightmare-free sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is centered around the episode, The Drumhead. Data's letter to Zoe where he mentions thoughts of marriage is in chapter 2 of Hello From Earth. Thank you all for your patience. I actually finished (re) writing this in the dark during a power outage and the power came back on when I wrote the last word of the actual chapter. Bicentennial Man, the movie, was released in 1999. It was directed by Christopher Columbus and starred Robin Williams and Embeth Davidtz. It was based on the novella The Bicentennial Man, by Isaac Asimov.


	11. Disconnection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe seeks refuge in Data's quarters when her mother's return from an away mission is delayed. Later, she has an altercation with Jenna D'Sora.

**Disconnection**

**Stardate 44803.2**

**(Saturday, 21 October 2367, 04:17 hours, ship's time)**

"Have they made contact yet?" I asked Data by way of a greeting as I entered his quarters in the wee hours of a Saturday morning. I could have been really, really early for that week's Saturday Session of music theory and technique, but for the fact that I was wearing sweats and flip-flops and the "Sun-Sand-Surf Santa Cruz" t-shirt I'd purchased months before when my friends and I had spent the day on the California town's boardwalk.

Okay, sometimes I showed up for those music sessions in t-shirts, and once in a while in sweatpants, but never in flip-flops.

In any case, Data didn't seem to notice my attire. "As of seventeen minutes, six seconds ago, they have not," he answered me. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

"In order to have nightmares, one has to be able to actually sleep. I haven't… I can't. I think I'm at the point where I'm so afraid of what I _might_ dream, that I keep waking myself up." I moved past him to slouch onto his couch. "Pretty pathetic, don't you think?"

"I disagree. I believe it shows how much you care."

"You wouldn't say that if you were living inside my brain."

"Perhaps not." He seemed unsure of how to help me, and for a long few minutes we were both quiet, but it wasn't the comfortable silence of the times when we were working or reading in tandem, as often happened after video nights when I would linger, catching up on reading for school while he busied himself at his console. Instead it was the awkward silence of two people who were more than merely friends, far less than lovers, and barely beginning to navigate the gulf between the two.

"I'm sorry," I said, breaking the silence. "I called you because I was going crazy alone in my quarters, and I knew you'd be awake. I brought my padd. Can I – _may_ I just curl up here and read for a while? You don't need to talk to me, or anything. I just need to be… not-alone."

"Of course, Zoe," he said. "Although the pallor of your skin and the visible 'dark circles' beneath your eyes would imply that tonight is not the first night you have gone without rest."

"It's not," I said. "Well, not entirely. Until they missed check-in, I was sleeping okay… if fitfully. It's weird –" I interrupted myself. "I used to revel in having the house – or my quarters – all to myself – but now I'm terrified of the solitude."

"It is likely that other stressors are creating the anxiety you feel, and that your mother's absence is exacerbating the situation."

I peered at him through narrowed eyes but when I spoke my tone was a teasing one, "You've been hanging around Counselor Troi way too much."

He ignored my snark, apparently taking my statement at face-value. "I have been 'in session' with the counselor on more than one occasion in addition to the times when we are on duty together on the bridge or on away missions." Or maybe not, because he added. "I find her insights into the emotional states of young women with 'creative' personalities remarkably helpful."

I took the bait. "Oh, you hang around with a lot of young women, do you?"

But he'd learned to read me well enough to catch the insecurity beneath my sarcastic tone. "You are quite aware that I was referring to you, Zoe."

I flashed him a tired grin. "Yeah, I know." But I couldn't keep up the happy, plucky pretense. "When Mom said she was leading an away mission, I was so proud of her… I mean… cultural anthropology is a 'soft' science. This isn't usual for her."

"Her expertise was needed for this assignment," he said. "It is one of the reasons she was selected."

"She mentioned something about a commendation for her leadership when you were all off playing Robin Hood with Q, as well."

"That is true," he confirmed. "Your mother, Lt. Barclay, Lt D'Sora, and Chief O'Brien all demonstrated strengths and skills beyond their typical duty assignments during that time. However, I would not classify our… excursion… as 'playing' anything. There was very real jeopardy."

"Is there real jeopardy for Mom and Reg and Jenna right now?" I asked softly. "Is that why they're two days late on their check-in? Mom made it seem like this was going to be a quick jaunt to confirm the age of some ruins, offer insight on the culture involved, and head back."

"I would prefer not to speculate," was Data's gently offered reply. "Zoe, your mother has the same training as any other officer. If she does not show that side of herself to you…"

"I know," I interrupted. "I know she does. She just downplays it a lot. But knowing that doesn't make me worry any less." I took a breath and then asked him. "Aren't _you_ worried?"

His expression was thoughtful. "I cannot _worry,_ " he said. "However, I am concerned." His focus – and tone – sharpened slightly. "I cannot speak further with you about an active mission, Zoe. Please attempt to relax. I will inform you as soon as the away team has checked in."

I stared at him for a long moment, seeing the officer overlay the man, and oddly, that slight shift in tone made me feel safer. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have pushed for information."

He opened his mouth to answer me, but then something pinged on his console. "There is no need to apologize," he said. "I understand both your curiosity and your concern. I must finish my task now." He favored me with the merest hint of a smile and added, "Make yourself at home."

I smiled back at him, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I slid my feet out of my flip-flops, picked up my padd, and repositioned myself on the couch so that I was laying on my back with my head resting against the arm, and started to read.

It might have been the comforting sound of Data's quiet interaction with the ship's computer; it might have been the fact that Spot had joined me on the couch and was purring softly near my ear; it might even have just been that I was too tired to fear what I might dream, but I found myself nodding off in the middle of a chapter.

**(=A=)**

I woke in a bed that wasn't mine, but was still familiar, to the also-familiar, and even somewhat missed, feeling of Spot kneading my hair.

"Really, Catling," I told her as I tried to disentangle her, "Macramé is _so_ twenty-third century."

Her response? She floofed her tail in my face and darted from the room. I, on the other hand, made my way to Data's living quarters at a much more leisurely pace, first peeking around the door to see if anyone else was around.

"Ah, you are awake," he greeted me when I emerged fully into the room. "I did not believe the position you were lying in on the couch was an optimal one for the health of your neck and spine, so when you reached deep sleep I moved you to the bed."

"You carried me to bed and tucked me in." It wasn't a question; I had a dim recollection of being in his arms, though I'm pretty sure I hadn't been entirely awake at the time. "Did I ask you to kiss me goodnight, or did I dream that?" I had an equally dim memory of him giving me a quick buss on the lips.

"You asked…"

"And you complied?"

"You were still mostly asleep. I determined that it was the easiest way to keep you that way and ensure that you rested."

"Better submit a correction to whoever owns the copyright for _Snow White_ ," I teased lightly. "The prince's kiss is supposed to _wake_ the sleeping princess, not send her deeper into dreamland."

"I will make a note of that," he said. "If you are hungry, please help yourself to the replicator."

I hesitated for a few seconds, trying to determine whether I was hungry, and if so, how much. "What time is it?" I asked him. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

"It is eleven thirty-seven," he said.

"So, I basically arrived hours-early for our Saturday Session, and then slept through a good chunk of it," I observed wryly. "How 'bout I run home and change and then you come with me for lunch – well, brunch, really – in Ten-Forward? That is, if you're willing to forgive me for missing my music lesson?"

"That would be acceptable," he said. "I will meet you at your quarters in twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Data." I said, referring both to his guarding of my sleep, and to the change in our regularly scheduled Saturday. I retrieved my padd from near the couch, and made for the door, then stopped, walked back into the room and around to his side of his workstation, and said, "It just struck me. Maybe it's a metaphoric waking up rather than a literal one, in _Snow White_. I mean, I keep discovering – waking up to - new and unexpected layers of awesome in _my_ handsome prince." As he had done to me the night before, I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Barely a whisper. Less, even, than when I sometimes kissed him on the cheek. "See you in twenty."

He was gracious enough to refrain from pointing out that I was down to eighteen minutes, or that he was not, in fact, a prince of any kind.

I was pretty certain, however, that both things were running through his mind.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44810.08**

**(Monday, 23 October 2367, 16:21 hours, ship's time)**

"Any word about your mom yet," Josh asked from where he was setting up some convoluted card game on the coffee table in my mother's quarters. We were supposed to be studying, but that had lasted all of twenty minutes before the boys had suggested playing a game instead.

I answered from in front of the food slot. "Nothing. They're four days overdue, and at this point I've asked Data for updates so often that he's almost managed to become annoyed."

"Zo', you're eliciting emotional responses from an android? Color me impressed."

"Commander Data doesn't have emotions?" Rryl asked before I could twit Josh for his comment.

"Definitely not human ones," I said. "Personally, I think he has his own version, but that's just opinion, and you didn't hear it from me." The replicator pinged, and I retrieved the bowl of popcorn it had delivered. As I carried it over to join my friends on the floor around the coffee table, I said. "Anyway, the last time I asked him if he'd heard anything he informed me that my 'continued requests for information were beginning to negatively impact the efficiency' of his work. Then he made me promise not to ask him more than once a day. I'm pretty sure his next step was going to be making me write 'I will not beg Data for information he does not have' a thousand times on a white board."

"Wow," Dana said. "I never thought I'd see the day when Commander Data would even consider punishing _you_."

"Oh, it wouldn't be a 'punishment,'" I snarked. "It would be an 'object lesson' or a 'useful reminder.'"

"So, when did he make you promise?" she asked.

"Last night after dinner," I answered. I helped myself to some of the popcorn, and used the time to chew, swallow, and wash it all down with a swig of cola to survey the array of cards. "So, how does this game work?" I asked.

"'This game'" Josh began, "Is called _Objects and Obfuscations_ , and you're going to love it."

"You really will, Zoe," Dana agreed. "You get to make stuff up."

Rryl took pity on me and began explaining the game. "Here is how it works," he said. "We are all members of an explorers' club, and we are in competition to visit distant planets and bring back exotic artifacts, interesting anecdotes, and other evidence of our travels. Or at least, that is what we wish one another to believe. The reality is that we do all this without ever leaving our space station. We really just visit different shops and restaurants on the station and collect items we think will support the stories we make up."

"The cards," Josh continued, "represent the different stores and other locations where we can pick up what we need. The two stacks in the middle are the Explorers' Clubhouse and the Zocalo Marketplace. The cards arranged around them are the art gallery, the bar, the clothing boutique, the news kiosk, the replimat, and the souvenir stand. Everything is one move away from either of the middle decks, and one move away from the nearest deck in the ring."

"It'll make more sense once we start playing," Dana said reassuringly. "But there are a few more stacks of cards. These over here," she said, gesturing to six single cards arrayed in a column, "represent the planets we're supposed to visit. Earth, Vulcan, Bajor, the Klingon Homeworld, Romulus, and Cardassia. They're all weighted differently, so you get fewer points for an adventure on Earth than you do for going to Romulus, for example."

"And finally," Rryl added, "you must take care to acquire all your necessary items and reach the clubhouse before the dastardly Doctor Nebula finds you."

"Okay, okay," I said. "I have two questions. One is, who came up with this game, and the other is… why don't we do this more often?"

The tone in the room shifted almost immediately, with my three friends exchanging awkward glances with each other. Finally, Dana said softly, "Zoe, the three of us – and sometimes Annette, too – _have_ been 'doing this.' You just haven't been available." She must have seen the defensive expression cross my face because she reached out and touched my hand. "Zo', you haven't. You were away all summer break, and then, well, we know what happened on Starbase Twelve."

"And since then," Josh said, taking over for his girlfriend, "you've been super busy and distracted. Voice lessons, cello lessons, quartet rehearsal, now the play, swimming with Ray every Sunday… and you've kind of been hanging out with Data a lot."

"Do not think we are judging," Rryl said. "It must be very difficult to have a crush on an officer who also acts as a teacher."

"It's not exactly a crush," I blushed. "But it isn't really anything more, either. I mean… we're friends, and… we kind of… fit together? I guess? But… I mean… Data would never do… nothing remotely inappropriate has happened."

"We know," Dana said, flashing me her warmest smile. "Really, we do. But we miss you, and we'd really rather hear the truth from you, than all the rumors coming from people who don't even actually _know_ you."

"I haven't meant to be distant," I said. "I just… I'm going through a lot, and there's stuff I'm not allowed to talk about." I took a breath and drank more cola. "Okay," I said, forcing my brightest grin. "Are we finished with the touchy-feely portion of the afternoon? Because I'd really like to play this game while I still remember everything y'all told me."

We shared laughter, and we had a good couple of hours playing the game, and when Dana won both the first and second times we played, I was truly happy for her.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44813.69**

**(Tuesday, 24 October 2367, 23:57 hours, ship's time)**

Sickbay was always a little bit creepy in the middle of the night. I sat in the chair someone had placed near my mother's bio-bed and tried to lose myself in the rhythmic pulsing of the monitors, and the soft sound of her breathing, but I kept wanting to cry or throw things or both.

I'd known something was wrong when Data had showed up late to rehearsal for _Romeo and Juliet_ earlier that evening. Oh, he was only playing the apothecary, but he'd also been acting as the assistant director. He had entered the auditorium at a brisker pace than I'd ever seen him use, and gone directly to Dr. Crusher's side, whispering something into her ear. Then _she_ had left at a run, and he had come to me.

"Zoe, the captain wishes to speak with you," he'd said, keeping his voice low. "Will you accompany me to his ready room, please?"

I don't remember responding to him. I don't remember the walk to the turbolift or being on the bridge for all of five seconds, or even arriving in the ready room. I don't even remember what Captain Picard said to me. I only know that he told me my mother's team had returned, that she was critically injured, and that she was in sickbay.

I remember his face and his voice, but not the specific words of his reassurances. Likewise, I remember Counselor Troi and Data sitting on either side of me on his couch, and I remember tears, uncontrollable tears, tears of relief that she wasn't dead, of fear about how bad her injuries might be, and of pain, on my mother's behalf.

I remember standing up, wanting to bolt from the room, and none of them allowing it.

The counselor had tried to pull me into a hug, but I'd turned to Data, and his arms had come around me, holding me against his chest. He, also, had given me reassurances that Mom would come through this injury just as she had her last. He hadn't let go until I'd sobbed myself out. He'd kissed my head then, and I was myself enough, at that point, to both feel and hear the slight reactions of both the captain and the counselor to that gesture.

Data escorted me to sickbay, assuring me that Counselor Troi would be available as soon as she'd checked in with D'Sora and Barclay, and that if I felt he could not provide me with adequate support, I should tell him. I'd been there since then… about four hours… except for some breaks to use the bathroom. I'd come back from one of the breaks to find the chair.

Data, Counselor Troi, and Nurse Ogawa had each checked on me a couple of times, and Dr. Crusher had sat with me for a half an hour after she'd explained that Mom had taken a phaser blast to the chest and shoulder when locals on Maarklin III had objected to Starfleet's presence at the dig site. I was still foggy on the details – something about an argument between religious and scientific factions on the planet, a protest that had escalated, and people firing hand weapons from the crowd. All of that had resulted in their four-day extension of planetside time.

"The phaser burns themselves are not that bad," the doctor had informed me. "But the impact caused your mother to lose her footing, and she hit her head. Barclay and D'Sora did everything they were supposed to, but she's unconscious, and will probably remain so until morning."

"Will… will she be… herself when she wakes up?"

"I can't detect any permanent brain damage," she'd told me. "I think part of her current state is due to a local treatment being used, but as far as I can tell, she'll be fine.

"Jenna and Reg – were they hurt, too?" I didn't really care so much about the blonde security specialist, but Reg Barclay was a decent guy, and he'd helped my friends and me with holodeck projects more than once.

"Reg was caught by one of the shots as well," she told me. "But he managed to keep his feet. Jenna was unharmed."

"Seriously?" I wasn't sure if I was impressed or annoyed. "Seriously?" I had repeated. Oh Annoyed. Absolutely. "You don't think it's a little ironic that the _security officer_ is the one member of an away team to _not_ be injured?" I'd crossed my arms over my chest and turned away from her.

The doctor was also the mother of a teenager and had likely chalked my response up to teenaged angst. Still, she said, "Sometimes it happens that way. Jenna probably feels awful about it. I'm going to leave you alone now," she said. "Poke your head in my office if you need anything. And talk to her. She needs to know you're here."

I'd kept my back to her, but I'd still answered. "Okay."

Hours went by. It was nearly midnight, and the lights had been dimmed. I was tired and hungry, but I was also loathe to leave, so I scooted my chair closer, held Mom's right hand in both of mine, and began telling her about the things in my life that had changed in the week she'd been gone. "I did something stupid, Mom." I said. "I couldn't sleep the other night, and I went to Data's… I brought my padd and I started to read, but you were already overdue, and I was worried, and I fell asleep, and he put me in his bed."

I felt like someone was watching me, but when I looked around, I didn't see anyone within hearing distance, so I just lowered my voice a little, and told her about Data kissing me goodnight when I'd asked, and about returning the gesture the next morning. "It was a nothing kiss, Mom. The kind of kiss I'd have given any of the guys from Dad's orchestra, you know. So… why do I feel like this one… _mattered?_ "

The only answer was the continued pulsing of the monitors tracking her heartbeat and respiration, so I just adjusted myself in the chair, and kept hold of her hand.

**(=A=)**

I must have dozed off, because I woke with my head resting on my arms on the side of the bio-bed, and a gentle touch to my shoulder.

I was expecting Data or the counselor, but it was neither. It was an older woman, who was faintly familiar, though I didn't know why. "Child, you're exhausted," came her voice, warm and concerned. She turned her black eyes first on me, and then on my mother. "She heard you, dear," the woman said. "She's resting now, and she wants you to rest, too, but she'll see you in the morning."

"You're not part of the medical staff," I said, stating the so-very-obvious. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, dear, though I've heard of you. My daughter is your counselor."

I took a better look at the woman. Her face was careworn and, unlike most of the holo-pics I'd seen of her, had been scrubbed mostly free of makeup. Her black eyes seemed to exude sympathy. Her hair was down, and slightly unkempt, and her clothes her expensive, but again, far less ornate than what she typically wore in media depictions.

"You're Ambassador Troi?"

"I am," she said, sparing me the recital of the rest of her titles. "You may call me Lwaxana, if I may call you Zoe," she offered. "Deanna tells me you're a connoisseur of tea. Why don't you take me somewhere where we can share a cup?"

It crossed my mind to object, but I was pretty sure she'd win any argument I made, so I just said. "There's a lounge around the corner. The view isn't great – mostly the medical staff sends family members there in the middle of the night – but the replicator seems to have better than average tea production abilities."

She favored me with a smile that was so much like the counselor's it was truly uncanny. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "Lead on, my dear."

I stood up and pressed a kiss to my mother's forehead, then moved away from the bed, and out of sickbay. I'd been diligent about wearing my comm-badge when my mother was away, just in case word had come when I was in class or rehearsal – but now, I knew, it would be beneficial if anyone needed to find me because she woke up. "Sure," I said. "This way."

We went to the small lounge nestled into one of the curves of corridor outside sickbay, retrieved mint tea from the replicator and sat on facing couches. Gently, so much so that I almost didn't realize she was doing it, the counselor's mother steered me into a conversation about how this was _my_ mother's first away mission, or at least the first one that I'd been aware of, and how I'd been so worried I couldn't sleep.

"I used to worry like that about Ian – Deanna's father – when he was alive," she said. "Eventually, I learned to find constructive ways to spend the hours when _I_ couldn't sleep." She pinned me with her gaze. "You'll have to discover coping mechanisms of your own, child, if you're planning a life with an officer someday."

"But I'm not –" I began. "I mean…"

She went on, almost blithely. "It's a challenge, of course, because you've fallen for a man who is singularly unique and may not even have discernable emotions."

"May not have…" I said. "You heard me talking to my mother?"

She shook her head. "No, child, and I didn't read your mind either. Doing so would be the height of rudeness, especially as we hadn't met properly. You're broadcasting your feelings for the android at such a mental volume that I'm surprised every telepath in the sector isn't demanding that you be taught a mental block."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

But she went on, still in her breezy tone. "Not that anyone would actually need telepathy to figure it out. I saw the two of you in that Ten-Forward lounge the other day. You weren't even touching but it was obvious the pair of you were vibrating in similar frequencies."

"Well, one of us might have been vibrating… a little… but Data certainly wasn't…"

"Oh, it's definitely not just you, dear. Mr. Data may believe he's a man of mystery, but for someone made of wires and plastic and bits of string, he's got surprisingly obvious body language. Not every observation requires telepathy, you know, though of course, it does help to find the truth of things."

"I had no idea it was that obvious."

"Ah, young love… Those who are in the middle of it always think no one notices, when actually, everyone does. Enjoy it while you can, my dear. Eventually the excitement at forging that first connection fades, and before too long that first blush will be a distant memory and you'll be faced with losing the people you love to bizarre rituals that cut a life in half for no good reason."

I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it didn't seem to matter. Somehow, I sensed that she wasn't really talking to me, but using my presence to be able to think out loud. I listened to her babble softly about someone named Timicin and turning sixty, and as she talked, I began to drift, going so far as to stretch out on the couch, as no one was around.

I don't know how long she talked, or how long after she stopped talking that we stayed there in companionable silence. I wasn't asleep, but I wasn't really conscious of the passage of time, either. I do know that Data arrived at some point and had a whispered conversation with the ambassador. I heard her say something about taking off his shirt which confused me, though his wholly audible answer did not: "I will stay with her until the doctor comes to find her."

Lwaxana paused near me before she left, whispered for me to take care, and caressed my forehead in that most maternal of gestures, and then Data did something that honestly surprised me (though it also made Lwaxana's words make sense). He removed his uniform jacket, revealing the solid black t-shirt that he wore beneath it, and laid it over me like a blanket. "I had thought to escort you back home," he said. "But Ambassador Troi suggested you would prefer to stay here, near your mother. Go to sleep, Zoe. I will be here."

He didn't need to tell me twice.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44814.43**

**(Wednesday, 25 October 2367, 06:29 hours, ship's time)**

As Lwaxana Troi had said, my mother was awake before I was the next morning. Dr. Crusher had come to find me just after the day shift had begun, and while she had been speaking, I had been trying not to be too obvious about watching Data put his uniform back together. The night before, I hadn't noticed that his creator had given him the illusion of surprisingly well-defined biceps for a man who would have been of average height and build if he'd been human. I also hadn't noticed that he looked really good in black... but then Starfleet 'gold' wasn't anyone's best color.

"I must return to duty," he told us, directing the additional information to me that I was welcome to call upon him if needed, and that he would not expect me in class that day.

I thanked him, and turned back to the doctor, who was explaining that Mom would be kept in sickbay for the rest of the day and was on light duty for the rest of the week but was otherwise fine. Gotta love living in the future.

My mother and I had a tearful reunion, but the tears were happy ones. She promised me she wouldn't get seriously injured again for at least a year, and I pretended to believe her. _I_ swore that I wouldn't be a nuisance to certain gold-toned second officers the next time she was on an away mission, and _she_ pretended to believe _me_.

**(=A=)**

A day and a half later, as I was heading home for lunch between classes, I ran into Counselor Troi exiting our quarters. "Hello, Zoe," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm… okay," I said. "I mean, I'm still a little behind on sleep, but… is my mother okay?" I changed the subject.

"She's fine," the counselor answered. "I was just here checking in with her."

"And _your_ mother?" I asked

"She's… better." Counselor Troi gave me her warmest smile. "She said she sat with you a while the other night. Thank you for being patient with her."

I shrugged. "Actually, she was really nice. She spent more time talking _at_ me than she did talking _to_ me. I think she just needed a sounding board."

Thoughtfully, she agreed, "That may be so." Then she smiled at me. "I'm sorry I had to cancel our session this week, but if you have time before your next class, I'm headed to Ten-Forward for lunch."

"I was going to see if Mom needed anything."

"When I left her, she said she was going to go back to bed," she said, "which is the best thing for her."

I glanced at the door, but I knew the counselor was probably right. "I could eat," I said. "Actually, I'm pretty hungry, but you should know I'm not likely to talk about anything but being nervous about taking the college boards on Tuesday. I'm even this close," and I held up my hand with my thumb and forefinger practically touching, "to cancelling video night with Data so I can cram."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said. We entered a turbolift. "We haven't talked about your future plans in a while. Are you still planning to audition for the Martian Academy?"

As we exited the lift and walked toward the lounge, I explained. "I'm still going to audition, but… the more experience I have with theater, the more I think I want to do something a little less limiting. And then, between Ed's class and Federation History, and all the fuss with the Keep Earth Human League back on Starbase Twelve, I'm kind of getting more interested in politics and social change."

We found a table and sat down. "Politics, really?"

"I wouldn't want to run for office, ever, but being here on this ship, meeting people like your mother… I read her book, by the way. Underneath all the flouncing and frivolity, she's pretty amazing."

"Yes," Deanna agreed. "She is. So, politics and social change interest you, but you don't want to even consider Starfleet?"

I gave her a look. "I can't believe people are still asking me that." We ordered food – a sort of scampi made out of a Betazoid shellfish called oscoid, and Blue Leaf salad -  and I continued. "I know it disappoints my mother that I have zero interest in following her footsteps, but I know myself well enough to know that much structure – rules and uniforms and all that – would stifle me. And it's just… not what I want to do."

"What _do_ you want to do?"

"Not have to choose?" I teased. "I told Geordi once that I didn't want to be an idiot. That's what I mean when I say The Martian is limiting. All they do is crank out professional musicians. It seems stupid to have spent basically my whole life focused on cello and then decide not to pursue it, but…"

"But you haven't," she said. "Zoe, I've read the resume you gave to Beverly. You've had theatrical experience all your life. You spent half your summer doing it. Why aren't you looking at theater schools?"

"Truth?" I asked.

"Always," she said.

"That's limiting, too. Just… not as." I sat back a little as our food was delivered, and then took a few bites, using the time to form my answer. "I love performing, but even though I have no interest in _Starfleet_ , that doesn't mean being around Mom, you, Geordi, Data, hasn't affected me. I don't want to be some vapid entertainer; I want to do something that matters. Make the universe a better place, and all that. I mean, look at Gran – she traveled to all these different worlds as a civilian first contact expert and used folk music to form connections."

"So, if you could design your own course of study, it would incorporate theater and politics and social justice?"

"And music, because I don't want to not-play, I just don't necessarily want to do it as a career." I'd never stated it so plainly before. Then I grinned. "Also, literature, and philosophy, and, and, and…"

We laughed together, then shifted the conversation to much lighter topics for the rest of our meal.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44831.84**

**(Tuesday, 31 October 2367, 14:56 hours, ship's time.)**

It turned out that the video night I hadn't cancelled after all was the last time I saw Data until the following Tuesday. _He_ cancelled our tutorial on Friday because of some visiting ambassador with whom was working on a project involving the people of Peliar Zel, which planet was currently the focus of the ship's orbit. _I_ cancelled that week's Saturday Session, so I could have more prep time. He had given us all homework to be done on our own, since he'd been needed on the bridge on Monday.

By the time I'd completed my battery of tests, I was tired, wired, and hungry. There had been common tests for the major university systems, and supplemental ones for specific schools. I was doing a music supplemental, while Rryl, for example, was determined to follow his father into Starfleet, so he had a special exam for that. The whole thing began at 08:00 hours and continued through 14:30, though there had been breaks, of course.

Data had contacted me the night before to wish me luck – I was pretty sure Josh, Dana, and Rryl had received similar messages – and invite me to a late lunch 'after the examinations have concluded,' but I'd asked if we could have tea that evening, after rehearsals for _Romeo and Juliet_ , instead. I knew my friends and I would want the afternoon to decompress. (We ended up loading a laser tag program on one of the holodecks and blasting each other to smithereens for hours.)

We ran into Jenna D'Sora again, on the way to Data's quarters after rehearsal. We'd taken a detour to deck nine, so I could drop my padd at home, and she was leaving my quarters as we got there.

"Data," she greeted him first, but, I noticed, refrained from touching him this time. "Zoe. I was just with your mother."

I was already tired from the day – exams, laser tag, and rehearsal - and stressed over my mother, who wasn't bouncing back to her usual self since her injury, and even (still, always) over Lore, even though I'd mostly stopped having nightmares, and hadn't brought up the near-constant edge of fear that seemed to be coloring everything. Then, too, Jenna and I had rubbed each other the wrong way from day one, so it probably shouldn't have been surprising that my response was spoken without any thought.

"Why? Did you come to finish the job?"

"I… I'm not sure what you mean," she said, but she didn't let her eyes meet mine.

I saw something change in Data's eyes – a sharpening of focus I'd only glimpsed a couple of times before – and a hardening of his posture. Officer mode. _Command_ mode. He spoke my name in a still, calm, voice, but I ignored him.

"I mean, you're a security officer and you were the only one of the three of you to come home uninjured. Weren't you supposed to protect them? Weren't you the one who should have been shot?"

From somewhere outside myself, I heard the words I was throwing at her, and was shocked at myself. That part of me recognized, however faintly, that Jenna was probably already beating herself up about that mission, but the part of me that was actually speaking was out of control.

"Zoe, I…" Jenna glanced at Data, and then back to me. "I'm sorry. I never meant for anyone to be hurt."

"Right," I snarked. "Of _course,_ you didn't."

"Zoe." Data again. Slightly louder. More than a warning; an admonishment. It should have stopped me, but apparently his brother had been right. My mouth was going to get me in serious trouble someday. _That_ day. "I do not believe you mean what you are saying. Perhaps you should apologize."

"Oh, right, take _her_ side," I spit at him, even though he was quite obviously not taking sides at all. I turned back to Jenna. "Isn't your job supposed to be to take the blast when someone's aiming at you? Why didn't you?" I asked. "Or better yet, why didn't you just turn your phaser on yours--"

I was horrified by my own words, but I couldn't stop, so it's a good thing Data cut me off.

"Ms. Harris, you are out of line." Data's voice, raised just enough to cut through the white-cold numbness that had taken over my brain. "You will enter your quarters and remain there. Lt. D'Sora, I suggest you also return to quarters. If you wish to file a grievance against Ms. Harris, it would not be unwarranted."

I was pretty sure he meant that mostly for my benefit. Well… kind of sure. He'd never raised his voice to me before, and he hadn't addressed me by my last name since that teen brunch over a year before. Part of me wanted to apologize, but the other, darker, part that was taking control wouldn't let me.

I heard Jenna utter a soft, "Yes, sir," and walk off.

I lifted my eyes to Data's, but he'd gone completely cold. "Did you not hear me?" He is tone was level, reasonable, just a hint of forcefulness underlying the words. "Please remain in your quarters until otherwise notified," he said, restating the instruction.

I nodded, and backed into the door, which opened and let me through.

I didn't cry until it had closed behind me.

My mother looked up at me from her position on our couch, but whatever she saw in my expression made her hold her tongue. She gave me a look of comingled sympathy and worry.

I just muttered, "I'm going to bed," and bolted for my room. I'd never wanted a door I could slam shut more than at moment. Still, the quiet _whooshing_ sound gave me my privacy. Collapsing onto my bed, I let the tears flow freely. I was hurt, embarrassed, mortified, apologetic, confused, and frightened, and those were just the feelings I had names for. I curled up in the darkened room and cried myself to sleep.

It wasn't even twenty-two hundred hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter spans the episodes Half a Life and The Host. The away mission that Jenna, Reg, and Zoe's mother (Emily) go on is my own making. The game she and her friends play is a riff on CheapAss Games' Stuff and Nonsense and is great fun. I was part of the Kickstarter for it, but I think you can buy it on their website.


	12. Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data and Zoe cross a line... but it's not the one you might think.

**Dissonance**

**(Continuity Note:** This chapter takes place four days after the one-shot, _Counseling Sessions_. **)**

**Stardate 44842.23**

**(Saturday, 4 November 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)**

I knew something was 'off' when I arrived at Data's quarters for our Saturday Session and found Geordi there, arguing with him.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but this is one of the most reckless ideas you've ever had."

"I have decrypted as much of the information as can be done otherwise," Data said to the engineer, using his most patient and rational tone. "It is clearly designed to interface with my neural net, and I cannot install it myself."

I set my cello on the floor and leaned on it. "Did I miss a comm or a message? I feel like I'm interrupting something."

"Good morning, Zoe," Data said. "We will be finished in a moment."

"Hey, Zoe," Geordi said at almost the same time. He glanced at me, but then returned his focus to our android friend. "We're actually done _now_ , because I'm not going to help you with this, Data. I think it's a bad idea." He looked back at me. "Zoe, tell him it's a bad idea?"

"I'd be happy to," I said, "if I had the merest hint of a clue about what you were talking about."

"I have accessed the first layer of information on Lore's data solid," Data supplied. "It is a collection of documents detailing with the founding of a corporation called the Soong Foundation, and listing all of the financial holdings of said corporation, as well as the personal property of Dr. Soong himself."

"So, dear old dad died rich and intestate?" I asked. "That sounds more like a legal snafu than a bad idea."

"He didn't tell you the part about there being more layers of data on that solid, and about wanting to stick it in his head."

"As I explained," Data said, "The solid is actually a chip designed to interface with my neural net. I do not believe it will cause harm."

"You 'didn't believe' Lore would do anything to hurt me, when he was stalking me in San Francisco all summer, either," I reminded him. "And you know how that turned out."

It came out angrier than I meant it, but that had been happening a lot since I'd yelled at Jenna in the corridor earlier that week. Counselor Troi believed I'd been repressing fear and anger about what had happened to me on the way home from Earth, and that my shifting relationship with Data was causing my blocked feelings to finally surface. She insisted that was a good thing, but I was not so sure.

Geordi was clearly as uncomfortable with the idea of sticking Lore's chip in Data's head as he was with my reaction. "I have to go," he said, easing toward the door. "Call me if you need anything," he added. "You, too, Zoe." The engineer left the room.

I waited for the door to be completely closed. "What if it's not just information?" I asked. "What if it makes you… like him?"

"I cannot become 'like him,'" Data assured, his tone as reasonable as it ever was. "I would not consider installing this chip if I did not believe it to be necessary," he added. "And I _cannot_ install it without help. As Geordi has refused his assistance, I must ask that you provide yours."

"Me?" I was shocked and horrified at the concept of being invited to poke around – literally – inside Data's head. "You want me…to…" Actually, I was shocked, horrified, and a little bit… pleased… that he trusted me enough to do it. "You do realize that the extent of my computer expertise is hacking the replicator system to get around the age protocols and get booze, right?" I probably shouldn't have admitted that, and it did earn me a raised brow from him. Probably he'd be speaking to Geordi or Reg about rewriting the relevant protocols, as well.

"You do not need 'computer expertise,' for this task, Zoe. You only need fine motor control, which you demonstrate every time you play your cello, and the ability to follow instructions, which we established on Wednesday that you also possess."

I blushed faintly at the last part of his statement. He'd reprimanded me – rightfully so – and I'd taken him literally when he'd restricted me to quarters afterward, then neglected to lift the restriction the next day. His explanation – given on Thursday evening during video night (I'd chosen a vintage twenty-first century feature film called _Thor_ ) – was that he assumed I would ignore that part of his order.

Well, _I'd_ called it an order. He'd said it was a 'request.' We'd finally agreed on 'instruction,' but by then half the video had played, which was fine for him, what with his super android multitasking abilities, but it meant I really hadn't been clear on anything but the fact that the actors playing Thor and his brother Loki were both kind of hot.

"It matters that much to you?" I asked.

"It matters that I discover Lore's plans and his location, in part so that I can ensure your continued safety." His yellow eyes met mine, and I couldn't look away. "As well," he added very softly. "I wish to retrieve something he stole."

"The emotion chip," I said, remembering our very first conversation about his brother.

"Yes." He waited a beat. "Will you assist me, Zoe, so that we may both learn the full extent of my brother's message?"

_Say no_ , the sane part of my brain screamed at me. _Say no and make him promise never to bring it up again._ I was never good at listening to my own advice. "Can I think about it?" I asked. "And decide after my lesson?"

"That would be acceptable."

**(=A=)**

I stretched my lesson out as long as I possibly could. Every theory question Data posed to me, I answered, then asked three follow-up questions of my own. I even tried to get him to babble about the difference between absolute and tempered pitch, but he kept the explanation brief – for him – and we moved on to the practice portion of our time together.

Most Saturdays that was what I lived for. When we'd first started playing together we'd had to make a conscious effort to mesh our styles, use breathing techniques and metronomes to stay in synch. Over a year later, our deeper friendship had also deepened our musical connection: when we played music together it was as if we were one being.

The piece we were working on was a solemn one, Faure's famous Pavane arranged as a duet for violin and cello, and it had been his suggestion. I knew it was used at funerals a lot. I didn't know why he'd chosen it – later, it would seem incredibly appropriate.

We played it through twice, and when I set my cello down, and I met his eyes, I knew what he was going to ask. "Don't," I said. I left my chair and stood in front of him. "You'll be able to talk me through what I have to do, and there's no way I can mess up?"

"We will insert the data solid in an auxiliary access panel. You will not be able to damage me."

"What if something goes wrong?"

I could tell he wanted to assure me that nothing could go wrong, but that his ethics program wouldn't allow the well-meant fib. "It is unlikely that anything will go wrong –"

"But if it does?"

He reached backwards to set his violin and bow on the couch, and then he stood up and removed his uniform jacket. It was only the second time I'd seen him without it - the first time I was fully awake for it - and for a moment I was distracted by how different he looked. In uniform, he was almost cuddly. In all black, he was suddenly more masculine. The tight t-shirt fit him like a second skin and left nothing to my admittedly overactive imagination. It showed off the biceps I'd glimpsed before, as well as sculpted (in his case, quite literally) pecs – he had nipples, I noticed - as well as…who gives an android a navel?

"Give me your hand," it was a request, softly phrased, and I complied without hesitation. He took my hand in his and guided it to the small of his back. In all the times we'd hugged, I'd never touched him there, and now I wondered how much of that was luck, and how much was by design. "Do you feel that projection?"

"Mmhmm."

"Zoe?"

I shook my head to clear it. _Stop thinking about touching Data and pay attention._ "Sorry. Yes. What is it?" If I l lifted my head, stepped backwards half a step, we'd be kissing. _Stop it, stop it, stop it._

"It is my…." He hesitated, used the time to move my hand away from his back, but didn't let it go. "It is my power switch."

It should have surprised me. I should have been rocked by the reminder that he was a machine. I should have asked how much pressure it took to activate the switch and deactivate…him. Instead, I asked the one thing I really wanted to know, "Does it show?"

"Show?"

"If you take off your shirt; does it show?"

"Ah. No, it is subcutaneous."

_If I asked you to show me, would you?_ I didn't say.

He was holding my left hand. I placed my right in the center of his chest, felt the power of him, the solidity. He – it wasn't a flinch, really, more of a… start… but he _reacted_ to my hand there. He looked down at it, then lifted his head in three stages, first his eyes, then his chin, and then he was looking at me with his brows furrowed into his 'questioning' expression. "Okay," I said.

"Zoe?"

"I'll…I'll do it. I still think it's a bad idea, but you're not the only one who _needs_ to know Lore's game. I'd rather be an active participant than a pawn, any day." I grinned and gave his chest an affectionate push. "But, just so you know, I'm choosing our videos 'til I'm ninety."

"Agreed," he said. He didn't bother to put his jacket back on, just went to the chair behind his workstation and sat down. "You will need to come here," he reminded me gently.

I started toward him, then stopped. "I should wash my hands first. I'm pretty sure the last thing you need is rosin and cat hair in your head." In his bathroom, I took time to pee, and to splash water on my face, as well. Then I returned to the main room and stood behind him. "Okay, tell me what to do."

He talked me through it in the same matter-of-fact tone I heard him use three days a week when he taught advanced mathematics. Press to open a small panel above, and slightly behind, his left ear. Count the rows of blinking red and green lights to find the socket. Use the pincers to pick up and insert the data solid - smaller end goes down. Have a minor freak-out when the lights change colors.

I tried to pretend it was commonplace to open the head of the man you kind of, maybe, love… or at least might love _someday_. In the end, I got through it by pretending I was playing one of those "Operation" games where you have to use a fake medical tricorder and brightly colored tongs to put a stylized plastic patient's parts back in order. Except that, at least, had a buzzer for if you messed up. "All done."

"Thank you, Zoe." There was a _whirr-click_ as he reached back to close the panel in his head, and then he spoke again, in the most… computerish… voice I'd ever heard him use. "Accessing."

"Data?"

"Accessing," he repeated.

I had no idea if his behavior was normal, but it was absolutely creeping me out. I left him behind his desk and went to sit on the couch. I could watch him from there.

"Accessing…"

After ten minutes had passed, I wondered if I should call Geordi. After twenty minutes had gone by, I regretted having left my padd at home. After thirty minutes, I stretched out on the couch. At some point I fell asleep.

**(=A=)**

I woke to the comforting weight of a uniform jacket on top of me, and the equally comforting aroma of mint tea. The room lights were slightly dimmed. "Data?"

"Here," he said. He was sitting in one of his straight-backed chairs, but he'd moved it near the couch – watching me. "Are you alright?"

I sat up. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I am functioning within norma –" he began but stopped himself when he saw the look I was giving him. "I am fine," he amended.

"And the data solid?"

"I am still assimilating the information stored upon it. Lore's encryption codes presented a stimulating challenge. So far, I have discovered fragments of several memories from my initial activation, as well as my father's final will."

_Stimulating? That can't be good._

"Sorry I fell asleep on you. What time is it? Does my mother know where I am?" I noticed something gleaming on the coffee table, and realized he'd removed the collar-pips and comm-badge before he'd covered me with his jacket.

"It is nearly sixteen hundred hours," he said. Vague time estimates were something he'd begun offering when we were alone, and the precise minutes and seconds didn't matter. "Your mother is aware that you are helping me with a personal project."

"You made tea."

"I assumed it would be welcome."

"It is," I said, reaching for the cup he'd clearly meant for me. "Thank you."

"It is the least I could do, pigeon."

I nearly dropped the cup. "What did you call me?" As it was, the hot liquid splashed onto my hand, and I hissed in momentary pain.

"I called you 'pigeon'. Are not affectionate nicknames appropriate between close friends? Do you not like it?"

"'Pigeon' is Lore's name for me," I said. "And I hate it. And you _know_ that. Data, are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"Of course," he said. He left his chair and came to sit on the couch with me. "You have injured your hand."

"It's nothing," I said, but he took the tea cup away from me, and drew my hand into his. I shivered, but it was because everything felt weird. I mean, we'd reached for each other's hands dozens – maybe hundreds – of times, but it had never felt wrong before. "Really, I've had worse. This one time, when I was about five, I managed to pull a coffee urn –"

"Shh." He hushed me, and then bent his head to my hand and placed a kiss there. His free hand lifted my chin, but I didn't see my friend in that pale, gold face. I saw a leer that was all too familiar. "Hello, pigeon," Lore's voice, Data's mouth. He brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Data's still here… I'm just an echo… just taking him out for a spin. Think he'd mind if you joined me?"

The leer turned into an expression that could only be described as panic - " _Data_?!" – but then it was gone, and the cruel smile that was pure Lore had returned. I should have tried to pull away, I suppose, but somehow, I knew that doing so would end up being… dangerous. Instead, I moved closer. _This isn't Data, not entirely. It's not really Lore either. Overshadowing, maybe? Software… it's just software. A glitch. What do you do when software's glitching, Zoe? Oh, god. Oh… shit! Ohgodohgodohgod!_ I turned my hand in his, laced our fingers together, moved close enough to lean my head on his shoulder. _I don't want to have to do this. Oh, god._

"Oh, little pigeon's come home to roost." The words were smug, dark, dangerous. _Not Data._

Apparently, that chip had enough of Lore's… essence… in it that when I moved closer, he – they? Data? - responded. He lowered his head to mine, nuzzled my hair. _Don't kiss me, please don't kiss me. Not now. Not when you're not… you._ I lifted my free hand to the back of his neck, traced an abstract pattern there. Would he remember this… after? Did I want him to? I wasn't sure. _I shouldn't be enjoying this_ , I thought, but it was the first time I'd really touched him. _Does this make me as bad as Lore?_

_"Do it!"_ I felt, more than heard, the words ghost across the top of my head. I let my hand trail down his back. Found the switch. Pressed.

Watching the life drain out of someone you care about is horrifying.

Knowing it was by your hand – even when you also know it's reversible – is a thousand times worse. If I could have disappeared right then, I would have.

Shivering – I was either in shock or the room was suddenly chilly - I pulled Data's jacket on over the tank top I'd worn back when the only thing I'd planned to do that day was a music lesson. It was huge on me, but surprisingly comfortable. I knew he'd probably find it inappropriate, when he was… himself… again, but I figured he owed me one. Or ten. Or fifty. Then I called Geordi.

"I'm in Data's quarters, and we…we did something stupid, and I need your help," I said once he'd answered my signal.

"On my way," he responded instantly. I was pretty sure he'd started running before he'd even closed the channel.

**(=A=)**

I was still wrapped in Data's uniform, still huddled on the couch opposite him in a grim, alternate version of our usual seating arrangements, when Geordi arrived. The door, I noted, didn't automatically open for him, but evidently, I could authorize entry. I made a mental note to ask about that – it hadn't occurred to me before.

"Are you alright?" Geordi's first words were to check on me. God, he was such a nice guy.

"I'm… I don't know." I said. "He showed me how to… and I didn't think… I was caught up in _him_ … and then…"

"Why'd you do it, Zoe?" he asked quietly.

I couldn't say 'turn him off,' or 'shut him down.'

 "Why did I deactivate him, or why did I do what you wouldn't?"

"Both, I guess. Which panel?" He had Data more or less upright and was leaning over the arm of the couch to reach our friend's head. "I mean, I know what he's like when he's chasing down a piece of information, but I would have thought with everything you've been through…"

I described which panel we'd used, but in my head, I was trying to form an answer that made sense. My own voice sounded lower than usual, at least to my own ears. Older, somehow. "With everything I've been through, is it so surprising I want answers just as badly as he does? Except… I don't even really know what the questions are."

"He should have killed him when he had the chance," Geordi said.

We both knew he meant that Data should have killed Lore.

"I don't think he could have," I said. I wasn't sure how I knew that; I just did. "I don't think he could kill Lore any more than he could kill you…" _Or me,_ I didn't add, even though I was sure it was true.

"Yeah…" He had his own set of pincers, I noted, in a pouch on his belt. He pulled the data solid free from its socket. "I should destroy this…vaporize it…"

"But you won't."

"No." He set the chip in a container on Data's desk, then returned to close the access panel. "Before we bring him back," Geordi said. "Tell me what happened?"

I did.

"Sounds like it was a personality overlay," the engineer said. "Damn it, Data!" He addressed the still-inactive android. "Why can't you ever just let it go? Why do you have to charge ahead so ruthlessly in your endless desire to _know_ things?"

"When Dr. Soong picked his name, he was more accurate than he knew," It was a random observation, and I said it without thinking.

Geordi turned his VISORed eyes toward me. "Dr. Soong didn't name him, Zoe."

"He didn't?"

"Uh-uh. Data's name was self-chosen. You didn't know?"

I shook my head. "It's never really come up." I glanced at Data, felt self-conscious wearing his jacket without permission, not that Geordi had commented about it. "Is it weird that I'm angry at him?"

"For not telling you about his off-switch before?"

"Well, that… but also for putting me through this. I mean… poking in his head was one thing, but then… _having_ to turn him off. Oh, god." I ran my hands through my hair, mussing my pony tail and not caring. "Did I do the right thing? I mean… he _told_ me to, but…"

"You didn't have much of a choice, Zo'," Geordi said. In the middle of everything it registered that he'd shortened my name.

"No… none I could see."

"You're damn lucky he let you do it."

"I know," I said. "Do you want me to leave before you… 'bring him back'?"

The engineer paused and stared at me. "Would you rather not be here?"

"I don't know. It's… what if he's still…?"

"Hang on." He tapped his comm-badge. "LaForge to Counselor Troi."

\- _Troi here. Is something wrong, Geordi?_

"I'm with Zoe in Data's quarters. There's been an… incident. I know it's your weekend but…"

\- _It's fine, Geordi. What do you need?_

"Do you mind if I send her over for a few minutes. We'll let you know when she should return."

\- _Not at all._ If the counselor thought Geordi was being cryptic, she didn't let on. _I'll be waiting for her. Troi out._

"You'll call me, when he's…better?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay." I left the couch, and moved past him, pausing at the door to glance back at Data, who still looked more like a mannequin or a corpse than the person I was familiar with, but just as I was leaving a thought struck me. "Geordi… does Lore… does he have a power switch, too?"

"Yeah, he does," Geordi said. "Why?"

"No reason," I said.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44842.98**

**(Saturday, 4 November 2367, 16:33 hours, ship's time)**

Counselor Troi was waiting in her open doorway when I got to her quarters. She didn't speak, just took one look at me, and drew me into a hug. She held me for several minutes, then led me into her personal space. Only after I was sitting in a comfortable chair with a mug of hot chocolate did she comment on my attire.

"Interesting outfit."

I had nearly forgotten I was still wearing Data's borrowed ( _stolen?)_ uniform top. "What, this old thing?" I joked, but my humor fell flat. My heart wasn't in it. "I woke up on his couch with this over me, and after… after I did what I did… I was cold, and it was there, and I didn't think I should leave him that way."

Her neutral expression eased into one of sympathy and concern. I don't know what she was sensing from me, but I felt completely muddled – scared, angry, heartbroken, embarrassed – "What did you do, Zoe?"

"I…" I swallowed some of the chocolate and didn't care that it singed my throat on the way down. "I turned him off."

To her credit, she didn't immediately call security. Instead she took several cleansing breaths and went to replicate a second hot chocolate for herself. "I think you'd better start at the beginning."

I explained what I'd walked in on that morning, how I didn't think it was a good idea, and had stretched my lesson out as long as possible. How I'd caved and installed the data solid, after all.

"That must have been difficult," she said. "Seeing inside Data's head."

"It's weird. That first time, when he was tinkering with his arm… it felt like I hadn't earned that level of intimacy. But today? I was more concerned that I might… break him."

"I'm sure he ensured that you couldn't."

"Yeah. I mean… he was incredibly specific about talking me through it, which helped, but… actually it was kind of cool. And… I felt like it was kind of an honor, that he'd even trust me to do it." I hesitated. "I don't think I ever realized before today that Data can be manipulative, when he chooses."

"Does that frighten you?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not that. It's more… We see him as this nice, mild mannered guy. It never occurred to me before today that he has an act, too. That a lot of the way he presents himself is so that we don't perceive him as a threat."

Her expression darkened, and I didn't know if I'd misspoken, or if there was something else. "That's an interesting theory," she said.

I shrugged. "I could be completely wrong. I mean, he and I have talked about masks before, about the way everyone changes their public persona, adapting to different situations."

"Do you and Data often have such philosophical discussions?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's all music. Sometimes it's picking apart the plots of videos. We've been broadening our subject matter lately."

"I'm not surprised. Music and math class may have brought you into each other's spheres, but you wouldn't still be spending so much time together if that's all you had."

"I don't think I can be his student anymore," I said. I wasn't sure where the thought had come from.

"Zoe?"

"I always thought that when people talked about crossing lines, they meant sex. But today… he put me in a situation where I had to turn him off. He convinced me to put that… _thing_ … in his head, and I did it, so it's not like I'm not as much to blame – I _could_ have refused."

"Why didn't you?"

I looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Because I wanted to know, too. Geordi was angry with Data about putting knowledge before anything, but…I wanted to know what Lore wanted, probably just as badly, maybe more. And… I mean, if it's hard for me to deal, because I'm lusting after Data…"

"It's lust now, is it?" she interrupted, teasing me, a little.

I blushed. "Well, not _really_ , but… he's so different when he's not buried in… in this…" I held up my mustard-clad arms to illustrate my point. "But that's not really the point. Lore is all he has. I mean… he has all of us, but it's not the same. Lore is the closest thing he has to a blood relation."

"You've thought about this a lot," the counselor observed.

"I've had to," I said. "Data… Data doesn't always understand my jokes, but he gets me in a way no one else does. How could I _not_ do the work to meet him half way?"

"But you don't want to learn from him anymore?" She seemed confused.

"No. I don't want to… can't be… his _student_ any more. Too much has happened between us – nothing physical – but, going back to what I said before… there are other ways we've crossed lines. The things I've gone through today… watching Lore's personality emerge – he called me _pigeon_ – having to do what I did. Seeing his personality – his whole self - go down the drain when I flipped the switch."

"But you're in his math tutorial."

"I know," I said. "With music… it's not a required class, and it's more like a partnership anyway. But in his class… I don't know, maybe if someone else graded my work?"

"It's something you should probably bring up with Data, if you want to continue your relationship with him."

"You're not calling it a friendship anymore," I observed.

"Is it?"

"Only a friendship? No… it's definitely more… but…  not really anything else, either. God, this would be so much easier if I were older."

"Well, that will happen in time."

"I wish it could happen faster." I finished the no-longer-hot chocolate in my mug, and then I asked her, "I have to tell him that I'm angry, don't I?"

"'Have to,' isn't quite the phrase I'd use."

"What is?"

"'Should.'"

I laughed. "Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Her door-signal chimed and she called out for whomever was there to enter. We were both expecting Geordi, but it was Data, dressed in a fresh uniform (bling and all) and seeming a bit more subdued than was usual. "Counselor," he greeted, "Geordi said I would find Zoe here. May I see her?"

The counselor glanced at me, but I was already unfolding my crossed legs, and getting out of her chair. "I'm right here," I said. "I'll join you, if you want?"

"Please," he said mildly.

I flashed Counselor Troi a grateful look and went to have the conversation that would either make or break whatever it was Data and I had.

**(=A=)**

"Have you eaten today?" Data asked as we re-entered his quarters. He'd taken time to put away the music stands and prop my cello against the wall, I saw.

It wasn't a question I had been expecting. "What? Oh… not since… not since breakfast this morning."

"Will you eat something before we have our talk?"

"Why do I feel like you're about to –" I almost said 'break up with me' but if we weren't just friends anymore we certainly weren't a couple either "- end our… friendship?"

"I have no such desire," he said. "However, Geordi informed me that you are feeling emotionally vulnerable, and my own experience with you has shown that your responses tend to be erratic when your blood glucose levels are low."

I shrugged, "I guess I could eat. You're probably right that I should. You usually are." It came out as a grumble, proving his point.

"Please sit. I will bring food to you." He nudged me toward the couch, rather than the table, joining me a few minutes later with a tray containing macaroni and cheese and a glass of ice water with lemon. "I believe you have referred to this dish as 'comfort food,'" he said. He sat down next to me and gave me an appraising look. "You are wearing my uniform."

"Only part of it," I said between bites of cheesy pasta. "I was freezing, and I didn't think I should leave you…like that…and you'd already removed all the jewelry."

"Jewelry?"

"Your pips and comm-badge."

"Ah." He took a beat, then added, "It 'looks good' on you."

I nearly aspirated macaroni. "Don't get any ideas. I still have zero interest in the Academy. This is the closest thing to any kind of uniform you'll _ever_ see me wear."

"I have never disagreed with your assessment of your lack of suitability to a Starfleet career. I merely meant that there is a degree of aesthetic appeal to the image of you in my jacket."

"I guess it's a day for crossing lines," I said. "Maybe we should mark it on the calendar and avoid it next year."

"I do not understand."

I rolled my eyes. "It's a… thing. Women wearing their… You know, you can ask Geordi about this one. I'm not entirely comfortable explaining it. Not today, anyway." _Especially not today._ I finished the food he'd given me, and then I scooted back into the corner of his couch. Comfort in familiarity, and all that. "I'm ready to talk now," I said. "But you should know that I'm really angry with you."

He gave me a nod of acknowledgement. "I should not have asked you to install Lore's data solid," Data said, matter-of-factly.

"No, you shouldn't have," I agreed. "And I shouldn't have agreed to do it. We crossed a line, Data." I said to him what I'd already said to the counselor. "I always thought that the line between friends and… and more… was all about sex. But today? Today we crossed another kind of line, and I wasn't ready for it. You put me in the position of deactivating you."

"Zoe…"

"No, let me finish. Installing the data solid? I knew it was a bad idea, but I wanted to know what was on it as badly as you did. Maybe even more so. I mean, I know Lore's your brother, but _I'm_ the one he violated. Even so, the actual act… even though I knew it was wrong, I was kind of… honored… that you asked me to do it. That you trusted me to."

I saw his brow rise slightly in reaction to that, but all he said was, "Please go on."

"Showing me your off-switch… I'm guessing you don't give that information to just anyone?"

"No, I do not."

"Showing me, and then putting me in a position to have to use it… it's more intimate than anything else we've shared. Data, you put your _life_ in my hands, and then you made me have to take it away. I'm not… I can't handle that responsibility and then sit in your class and worry over whether or not I'll pass the next pop quiz. If we're going to keep exploring… whatever this is… whatever we are… I can't be your student anymore."

"What do you wish me to say?"

"I don't know. Tell me I'm not imagining that the slow trajectory we talked about is getting faster. Tell me that when you kiss the top of my head, or play with my hair, or hold my hand that it actually _means_ something. Tell me…" I stopped, and stared at him for a long moment, and then I couldn't help it. I had to _do_ something.

I got off the couch, took my used dishes to the replicator, and returned, but I didn't go back to my spot, I stood in front of him.

He lifted his eyes to meet mine, confusion evident on his face. "Zoe?" He made my name a question, or maybe it was several questions, or even several thousand.

"Stand up," I said. "Please?"

He was still obviously confused, but he complied. "Zoe, are you alright?"

"No," I said. "But I will be."

I rested both my hands against his chest, and when he looked down at them, as I knew he would, I made my move, rising onto my toes to press a tentative kiss to his lips. He pulled back slightly, opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head. "No more talking."

My lips met his again, less tentatively, and this time, just as when I'd kissed him back in September to get that data solid out of my tongue, he responded, moving his mouth against mine, deepening the kiss.

Our tongues met, and I tasted that same sweet nuttiness… or maybe it was a nutty sweetness. I'd thought the hint of cashew was from the food we'd eaten, that night, but in that moment, I learned it was just him.

His right hand went to my waist, beneath his open uniform jacket that I was still wearing, and he pulled me closer. His left hand released my hair from its elastic band and then tangled into it. I paused a moment for breath, and then recaptured his mouth.

I was almost out of breath again when his left hand joined his right at my waist and held me at arms' length. "Zoe, we must stop." Android strength. Barely any pressure. I couldn't have closed the distance if I'd tried.

"Data?" It was my turn to be confused.

"We cannot continue this."

"Why?" I demanded. "You didn't stop me in September. You didn't stop me five minutes ago, why now? If it was because of my age, your ethics program would have kicked in. Is it your rank? Is it something else?'

"While you are correct about my ethics program, and the other two items are valid points to consider, we must stop because of your mother."

"What?" He was still holding me but let go when I squirmed. "What does my mother have to do with anything? She knows I spend time with you. She knows what we've been… exploring."

"When you were away this summer, I promised your mother I would not allow things to progress beyond a certain point before you were eighteen."

"What?! You promised _what_? No progression beyond a certain point? What point, Data? You can kiss me on the head, but not the lips? I can hold your hand in private, but I can't touch you?"

"I believed it to be a safe promise to make. Zoe, when you left, our relationship, while intimate in its way, was considerably less so. If you will be calm I will relay the entire conversation."

_Yes, and he'd probably do it in my mother's own voice, too._

"I'm not sure which is worse… that you discussed… us… with my mother when there wasn't even an 'us' to discuss, or that you made a promise involving my life, or that you didn't tell me." I shook my head. "I can't… any other day – night – I've lost all track of time –"

"It is nearly twenty hundred hours," he supplied helpfully.

" _Data!_ "

"I should have discussed it with you," he agreed. "I did not… I was wary about attempting to define our relationship."

"I have to go." I moved toward the door, stopped, and moved back to pack my cello into its gig bag. "I can't… I can't be here right now. I have to go." I couldn't get the gig bag unzipped, so just picked up my cello. I'd get the bag later. Tomorrow. When I could think.

"Allow me to help you," he offered, and stepped toward me.

I hadn't planned to throw my cello at him. I hadn't even realized you _could_ throw a cello, what with their complete lack of aerodynamic design. But I did. Or maybe it flew, because suddenly my hands were empty, and he had caught it.

It's a strange thing, to see a normally placid, allegedly emotionless android with an expression of stunned confusion.

I couldn't help it. I used the opportunity to leave.

It isn't technically fleeing if you're not actually running, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faure's Pavane Op. 50 is one of those pieces recorded by pretty much every instrument ever. There is a version for violin and cello, and if I haven't already added it to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist, I will do so later today. As I'm writing this we're in (another) severe thunderstorm, and the power keeps flickering. Data's off-switch is first mentioned in the episode DataLore. His name being self-chosen is in the novelization of the ST:TNG pilot episode Encounter at Farpoint, but I can't remember if it's in the aired version, and I didn't bother re-watching that episode to confirm.


	13. Endurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe asks for a break from spending time with Data... and then the game changes.

**Endurance**

**Stardate 44845.88**

**(Sunday, 5 November 2367, 17:56 hours, ship's time)**

There are times in your life when change seems to take forever to come: when you're wishing for your first kiss, or first period, for example, or when you're counting the days until you get to start high school and put middle school behind you. There are other times when change comes at you with all the subtlety of a Klingon battle cruiser, firing at you from what feels like a million directions, all at once.

Translation: That Saturday, when I'd walked into Data's quarters expecting my usual morning of music and mild flirting, I'd still been a kid. Not a _child,_ but, a kid.

By the end of the day, after seeing (literally) inside his head, after having to deactivate him, after sharing a really satisfying kiss, and then after his revelation that he'd promised my mother he wouldn't touch me, I wasn't a kid any more. Somewhere in that day, the last of my childhood had oozed out of me. I expect it was in a puddle under Data's coffee table. I wondered if it would stain.

The day after That Saturday was an all-day tech rehearsal for _Romeo and Juliet_. As had become my habit, I kept offering breath mints to my Romeo, Ethan Lovejoy. The dark-haired, blue-eyed ensign was just on the verge of being pretty rather than handsome, and I couldn't deny that his performance was natural, and that we played well against either other, but his breath… His breath could have slayed an entire army of Borg.

Around six that evening, Dr. Crusher finally released us. "Don't over rehearse between now and Thursday," she reminded us. "And remember – limit your dairy intake, drink plenty of water, and get lots of rest."

Just before eight – twenty-hundred hours, in Starfleet parlance - I was outside Data's door. I wasn't wearing my comm-badge, which meant I had to use the annunciator.

"Come in," came his familiar, pleasant invitation. I walked through the door, to find him sitting behind his. console. "Zoe," he said. "I was not expecting you. I am afraid I am due to meet Geordi in engineering shortly, and then I must take command of the bridge for the night watch. Perhaps it would be better if we met before or after class tomorrow."

"I won't _be_ in class tomorrow," I said, firmly but gently. I laid the bundle of folded cloth I'd been holding on the desk in front of him. "I just wanted to return this. I didn't mean to abscond with it."

"I did not mind," he said, unfolding it, recognizing it as his uniform jacket, and refolding it in a slightly different configuration. "As to class…"

"Don't, please? I know I need an upper level math credit. I'll figure something out with Ms. Phelps, but I meant it when I said I couldn't be your student anymore. And it's not just because - because we kissed again – it's everything. Too much has happened, and we can't go backward."

"I understand," he said. "You will be missed in class, though."

"You're going to be 'missing' me on Thursday evenings and Saturday mornings as well," I said. "For a while."

"Zoe…?"

He'd managed to find an inflection of my name that conveyed both disappointment and lack of understanding, and it hurt me to hear it.

"I've been snapping at people, snarking more than is normal – even for me – for a while now. You know my yelling at Jenna that night wasn't exactly in character. Even before yesterday I've been… Look, there are things involving everything that happened in February and over the summer, that I haven't resolved, and I need to spend some extra time with Counselor Troi working on them. I've been spending so much time with you, where I feel so safe, so cared for, so at home, that I've been able to bottle things up, but even you have admonished me about that."

"I had noticed that your moods were becoming increasingly unpredictable," he admitted. "I am glad you are seeking the assistance of Counselor Troi. If yesterday exacerbated anything..." he trailed off.

"It did, and it didn't. Eventually, we'll talk about it, but right now, I need to step back from so much intense time with you and focus on _me_ for a while. I don't expect you to ignore me in the corridors, or anything, I just need a break from all our 'regularly scheduled' activities."

His soft reply of "As you wish," nearly tore me in half, but then he surprised me by stepping around the console and pulling me into a hug, then kissing the top of my head.

I let myself enjoy being in his arms, surrounded by his reassuring solidity, and then I pulled away. "I should go now. I'll see you…"

"I will see you on Thursday before curtain," he said, "if not sooner."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44865.70**

**(Sunday, 12 November 2367, 23:35 hours, ship's time)**

For the next week, I spent two hours a day in sessions with Counselor Troi, some with Mom present, some not, and I was starting to feel less fearful about any further encounters with Lore. Deanna knew, though my mother did not, that knowing where Lore's off-switch was located had been incredibly helpful. Data was right in his assertion that I would likely not survive an attempt to deactivate his dark twin, but knowing it was _possible_ was enough.

By the time the closing night of _Romeo and Juliet_ had arrived, I was already missing my usual one-on-one time with Data so much that there was an almost physical _itch_. Oh, we'd talked a little bit backstage – he seemed incredibly concerned (especially for him) with my well-being – but nothing real or meaningful.

I tried to catch up with him, at least for a few minutes at the cast party, but it was nearly midnight before I'd managed to extricate myself from Ethan's presence, as well as that of the apparently unending stream of people who came up to me to compliment my performance. "You were so natural. Are you planning to continue acting in college?" was the common refrain. By the time I was finally free, and had joined Mom and Ed, Counselor Troi and Commander Riker, Dr. Crusher, and Geordi at a table – Captain Picard had actually given me his chair as he excused himself – Data had already gone.

"He's not avoiding you," Guinan said, coming up behind me during a lull in the conversation.

"Excuse me?"

"Data. He isn't avoiding you. He's been doing night watch on the bridge all week, but it was scheduled before whatever happened between you. He wanted to speak with you tonight, but people kept commanding his attention…or yours."

"I haven't been intentionally avoiding him, either," I told her. "I mean, I have, but…"

"No," she said. "You aren't avoiding him, you're merely taking a break. He told me. He misses you, you know." She raised her voice to address the table at large, "Do you mind if I join you?" No one did. She sat down next to me, but directed her next statement to Dr. Crusher, who was further away. "I think it would be interesting to cast Zoe and Data against each other in the next production."

I knew I was goggling at her, and I didn't care, but it was the doctor's response that surprised me even more. "Actually, I've been thinking about doing just that. Data's acting has improved a lot recently, and Zoe, you're always so comfortable on stage…"

"We have completely different acting styles," I protested, mostly because I didn't want them to notice the color I could feel rising to my cheeks. _Cast against Data? That would be…dangerous. And interesting. And fun._

"Oh, that doesn't matter," the doctor said. "You're going away for the December holidays, aren't you?" We'd all been talking about how the various winter holidays were getting closer.

"Back to Centaurus, so I can be there when my new sibling arrives," I confirmed. "But I'll be back here by the middle of January, when the new semester starts."

"Hmm. I'll give it some thought. I might not even hold auditions for the principals, just cast based on availability. Geordi, you really should join us."

"I'm not the theatrical type," he said. "Really."

Ed and Beverly both began to work on him, convincing him otherwise, and I turned back to Guinan. "You didn't have to do that," I said.

"Do what?" she asked in that tone that combined mystique and innocence. "I think the two of you would play well opposite each other." She took a beat. "Of course, first you have to talk to each other, which is why I'm reminding you: he misses you…" She stretched out another pause. "Trust your connection to him."

_But he **broke** my trust_, I didn't say. Instead I just nodded and told her, "I'll try."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44866.90**

**(Monday, 13 November 2367, 10:04 hours, ship's time)**

The morning after the play, I left messages with my friends that I'd meet them in one of the lower decks mess halls for lunch, but that I still wouldn't be in Data's class. That was the morning Geordi dropped by to see me.

"Hey, Zo'," he greeted, the too-casual phrasing belied by the serious expression on his face. "Data asked me to bring this by for you," He retrieved my cello – in its gig bag – from where he'd leaned it against the bulkhead wall. "Mind if I come in?"

I shrugged, "I don't see how one truant student merits the attention of the chief engineer, but sure."

"Truant?" he asked, coming all the way into our living space, and holding out my cello. "We both know you're only skipping one class, and we both know why."

I took the instrument from him and set it against the wall outside my bedroom door. "If it matters, I've been getting his homework assignments from my friends. I've even been completing them. I just haven't been turning them in." I'd been planning to speak with Ms. Phelps about turning them into a sort of independent study project but hadn't gotten around to actually asking her.

"I figured as much."

"I'm that predictable? Even to people who barely know me?"

"Only in that you don't want to disappoint him." We both knew who 'him' referred to. It didn't require explanation.

"Did you really come all the way here just to deliver my cello? He could have asked me to come get it, or brought it here himself, or handed it off to my mother."

"Yeah, he could've," Geordi allowed. "But since I was coming down here anyway…"

"Wait…you were?" I felt like I was missing something.

"I've been reminded that I never followed through on the flitter lessons I promised for your birthday…and as your _next_ birthday is creeping up on us…just a couple months now, isn't it?"

"A little over two," I confirmed. "I didn't follow up, either, though."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Any particular reason why not?"

"I guess I felt… I don't know… you went out of your way to make me feel included when he was… missing… that time, and you're always really nice to me, but I'm never sure if that's just you, or if you mean it."

"Haven't you heard? I'm the nicest guy on the ship. Unless you mis-calibrate a warp coil. Then I get tetchy."

"Tetchy? Really?" But I couldn't help grinning. And the truth was, flitter lessons would be better than moping around my quarters three mornings a week. "Okay, so, when do we start?"

"I'm free now," he said, matching my grin. "If you are."

"Give me five minutes to fix my hair and change shoes?" I asked. I was still wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers, even though I was otherwise dressed. "I mean, if you're really not too busy and important?" I used a posh British accent for the last four words.

He chuckled his reply: "Not at all."

**(=A=)**

"Okay, Zo', this is your basic atmospheric flitter cockpit. Commercially available vehicles, like what you'll be flying, are a little shinier – more comfort features – but they all fly the same. Or drive, in your case, since we're going to start with ground-mode. You ever been in a ground car?"

"Not a car exactly," I said. "When I wasn't touring with Dad, I was living on a farm. Farm kids get licensed for ground vehicles at fourteen on Centaurus. Mostly, I drive our Subaru Off-worlder, but I _learned_ on a vintage nineteen-sixty-six Ford F-100 pickup truck."

His eyebrows lifted over his VISOR. "Nineteen-sixty-six? That's pre-Eugenics War. How is it even running? How did your family get it to Centaurus?"

" _Please_. If you know the right people and have enough cash, you can get anything anywhere… or you could when Centaurus was first being developed. The Harrises are one of the Founding Families, you know."

"I can see that," he drawled thoughtfully. "Those were internal combustion machines, weren't they?"

"Were. Are. Gran has a guy whose whole job is taking care of Bertha."

"Bertha?"

"The truck. Its name – her name? – is Bertha. Apparently, there's a tradition of naming pickup trucks. Anyway, the _Enterprise_ has you; Bertha has Sven."

"I'm still trying to imagine you behind the controls – wait, those just had a steering wheel, right? - behind the wheel of a…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

I laughed. "It gets better." I made my voice sexy and flirtatious, but in an obviously teasing way. "Bertha has a manual transmission. I'm probably the only sixteen-year-old you know, who knows how to drive... stick."

As I'd hoped, he burst out laughing. "Are you like this around Data?" he asked when his laughter had subsided.

"I'm like this around _everyone_ I'm comfortable with," I said. "Including Data… and before you ask, yes, most of the time, he gets it. Gets _me._ He doesn't laugh, obviously, but… sometimes there's a hint of something in his eyes, or in his face."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He took a beat then refocused his attention on the controls of the holographic flitter. "Okay, Zo', let's do this."

Geordi was a patient teacher, and I was motivated to learn, so we completed my first lesson in ground mode, and even did the first step of flight mode – a vertical take-off and landing with zero forward momentum - and I didn't crash the simulator once.

Before we left the holographic flitter, though, the engineer grew serious again. "Look, Zoe… you should talk to Data. He told me how you left things the other night."

The smile I'd been wearing for the duration of our lesson softened into something wistful. "I knew you weren't _just_ stopping by to honor a months-old birthday promise." I wasn't angry. I'd known from the moment of his arrival at my door that he'd been sent to check on me.

"Actually, I was," he said. "But I was _also_ checking on you because you're the woman my best friend is in a relationship with."

"Am I?" I asked, with no malice, just naked confusion. "I mean… is that what Data and I have? A capital-R relationship?"

"You know you do."

"I've been trying to convince everyone – including him – including _myself_ – that it's just a crush for so long… The truth is, it hasn't been just that for a long time, but there's still a lot of distance between 'want' and 'have,' and… I'm not entirely sure how to navigate it… with him."

"You could try telling him that," Geordi said. "Try navigating it together." He hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "You could also try learning to be angry with him without running away." The engineer sighed. "Listen, I'm the last person who should be giving relationship advice, but it seems like you two have talked about everything but exactly what you are to each other."

"He said he didn't want to define anything." I said. "He also said we weren't in a race and didn't have a deadline, and maybe that _was_ true, before… everything… but now? Now everything's different and I don't want to put him in a position of having to reject me."

Inexplicably, he began to laugh.

"What?"

"You two…you two really are perfect for each other."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean it. You both see everything in black and white. He thinks when you run it's because you don't want to be around him, and you think your relationship has to be all yes or all no."

"And what do you think?"

"I think you need to talk to him. And listen to him."

I stared across the cockpit at the latest in my growing posse of unofficial counselors. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Did he tell you what happened after Jenna broke up with him?"

I shook my head. "I only knew they'd ended it, and at the time, it wasn't appropriate to ask for details."

"He'd written a subroutine to handle their relationship, to help him find appropriate responses. When she ended it, he deleted the subroutine."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"So, what, if I don't go talk to him, he's going to delete me, too?"

"No. He can't."

"I'm sorry?" The cockpit was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Or I was beginning to feel so. "Why can't he?"

"Because, he… No. You know what? You'll have to ask him."

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that." I took a beat. "I promise I won't let it go much longer, okay? I mean, I miss him. Kind of a lot."

Geordi shook his head. "Okay."

I smiled. "Can we try that VTOL one more time?"

His laughter rang through the small space. "Sure, Zoe…sure…" But he hesitated before resetting the sim. "One more thing?"

"What's that, Geordi?"

"What color is the truck?"

My laughter was almost as loud as his had been. "Red, Geordi. Obviously."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44867.28**

**(Monday, 13 November 2367, 13:25 hours, ship's time)**

Life on a starship often follows the same patterns as life on an old-style film set: a lot of 'hurry up and wait.' The ship had been tasked with routine mapping and charting, checking of subspace buoys – what I referred to as 'the boring parts' for a couple of weeks, so it made sense that something was due to happen.

While I was at lunch with my friends, I learned that Data would be going on a brief away mission – one of those 'only an android can do this' sorts of assignments – and would be off the ship for several days.

\- _"I am hesitant to ask, because I do not know if this would infringe upon the 'break' that you requested, but would it be an inconvenience for you to look after Spot while I am gone?"_ he had requested, contacting me via comm-badge while my friends listened in on the conversation. _"She is always most receptive to your presence."_

I'd assured him that it wasn't.

_\- "I will send the details of when I expect to depart and return to your padd."_

"Sure, no problem."

_\- "Very well. Data out."_

Fortunately, we had a class starting five minutes later, so there wasn't time for my friends to ask questions.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44873.63**

**(Wednesday, 15 November 2367, 21:00 hours, ship's time)**

"Enough!" Dana announced, shoving her padd away from her. She, Annette and I were studying for a lit test the next morning. "We've been at this for two hours, and I don't think I can hold another description of classic Vulcan poetry in my head."

"It _is_ getting late," Annette agreed. "Anyway, we have Zoe here captive, the boys are out doing… whatever… and I think it's time for some answers."

"Answers?" I asked, scooting backwards on Annette's bed until my back was against the bulkhead wall. We'd chosen to study in her bedroom rather than the family room to give her parents some space. "What answers?"

"Oh, I think you know, Zoe. First, you're not in our math tutorial anymore, then you're agreeing to babysit Commander Data's cat, even though it would 'infringe upon our break'? Zoe, _couples_ take breaks." This was from Dana, who was usually the mildest of all of us.

I had the decency to blush. "We are not a couple."

"What about every Thursday night? His quarters? _Videos?_ " Annette ticked each item off on her fingers. "Hon, you have a standing date with him. You're a couple."

"That's not true," I said softly. "At least… I don't think it is… but would it be so horrible if it was? I mean, yeah, he's almost thirty, and he's a line officer… but it's _Data_."

Annette moved so she was sitting next to me, her back against the bulkhead, as well. "If it were anyone else," she said, "It would be creepy and weird and a thousand kinds of wrong, but, it's Data, like you said, and we all know normal rules don't apply."

"Is this why you're not in class?" Dana asked. She wasn't on the bed but had been lying on her stomach on the floor, her feet kicked up behind her. As she spoke, she sat up, and faced us. "Because you're in a relationship now?"

"We're not in a relationship," I said quickly. "At least, not the way you mean. I'll confess to wanting one, but…this is about something else… a personal project. God! Why couldn't I fall for Ethan or Ray or even Rryl? It'd be so much easier."

"For the same reason you only wear vintage clothes and think of your comm-badge as a leash," Dana said softly. "You don't blend. You couldn't if you tried."

I shrugged. "Sure, I could… maybe… I never _have_ tried."

Annette and Dana shared a look that clearly meant they didn't believe I could ever blend in with anything. Finally, Annette said, "You wouldn't be the first student on a starship to fall for an officer."

"What?"

"Oh, yeah, it made all the news nets when it happened. Remember a couple years ago when the _Yamato_ went missing? I had friends on board. Kelly and Kathleen Berkshire. Our fathers were on the _Ticonderoga_ together a few years ago."

Dana and I both remained silent, wanting to hear the rest of Annette's story.

"Anyway, Kathleen's my age, so she would have been sixteen then…and there was this huge scandal when people found out she was sleeping with the ship's security chief. Kelly was sent home to live with her grandparents, and Kath… well, I'm pretty sure she died with everyone else."

"That's horrible," I said. "But, what's the object lesson here? If you fall for an officer, you end up dead?"

"Nooo," Annette replied. "I didn't mean that at all. Just… if we all heard about Kathleen, it stands to reason it happens more often than you think. I mean, consider: we don't have a lot of options, and all of us have spent time with the older cadets and junior officers…"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, okay, but just because it's happened before doesn't mean… and anyway, I still maintain we're not a couple."

"Keep telling yourself that, Zoe-dear," Dana sing-songed. "Hey, that means I get to ask – since you're _not_ part of a couple, why _didn't_ you get closer to Ethan? I mean… _Romeo and Juliet_. On the balcony. All those long hours of rehearsal. That bedroom scene…"

Dr. Crusher had followed the cinematic tradition of adding a little bit of steamy action just before the actual scene when Romeo leaves Juliet's bedroom. I'd been a little bit embarrassed at first, but Ethan had been surprisingly sensitive about it. "The truth?" I asked, making sure they wanted to know. "It will shatter all your illusions of the infamous 'Ensign Loverboy.'"

"Do tell," Dana encouraged.

"His breath is the most horrible substance ever smelled by a humanoid nose," I revealed. "I actually started hiding boxes of mints around the set, so I could feed them to him before he kissed me."

My friends exchanged another look of disbelief. "You're just teasing us," Annette accused.

"I'm not; I swear." I said. "In fact, I have this theory that the real reason he's slept with almost every woman on the ship below the rank of full lieutenant is that his breath is so gross, no one will sleep with him a second time."

Annette hit me in the face with a pillow. "You're horrible!"

"Yes," I agreed, capturing the pillow from her hands and hitting her back. "But, I'm never boring."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44878.93**

**(Friday, 17 November 2367, 19:30 hours, ship's time)**

Two days later, my mother was on a date (and likely an overnight stay) with Ed, Dana and Josh were out being couply and cute, and Annette and I were in my room just hanging out. As so often happens with teenaged girls, we found ourselves taking stock of my wardrobe.

 "Wow, Zoe, you take 'casual' to new extremes," Annette said, viewing the collection of vintage tees hanging in my closet. "I can see why you want to update a little."

"More than a little, I guess? I mean, still no desire to join the masses and dress in jumpsuits or unitards all the time –"

"That's an exaggeration and you know it," Annette interrupted. She herself was wearing a cornflower blue V-neck tunic over a slim skirt, and she looked amazing. But then, she always looked amazing. "If it's about everything being so form-fitting, you should know that the jeans you love so much do _nothing_ to hide your shape."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not. It's about self-expression. And…" I referred to a conversation we'd had a few days before. "And not blending."

"You could wear skirts."

"I am not a skirt-person. I mean… I play the cello… it's awkward. Anything long enough to keep me from flashing people would make me look dumpy and frumpy and boring."

"Stop fishing for compliments, hon. You know you're none of those things."

"I need to look more mature," I said.

"Zoe?"

"I like my clothes, I'm comfortable in them. But they scream 'kid' and 'teenager' and I need to make my wardrobe a little more 'young adult.'"

"For Data?" She was teasing, but it stung a little.

"Not _just_ for Data," I said. "Because while we're not a couple _now_ , I want there to be an option to go there in the future. And to do that I need him to see me as a woman and not a little girl. Actually, I need everyone to see me that way. Um… you won't repeat that, right?"

"Not a word," she said, and then continued, "Hon, no one thinks of you as a little girl. Definitely not Data… but not anyone else, either. Trust me. I was sitting in front of Ray Barnett and his friends at _Romeo and Juliet_ , and, aside from Ray, it wasn't your acting skills they were talking about." She went to sit on my bed, leaving me to stare at my clothes alone. "Have you heard from T'vek lately?" she asked casually. Too casually.

"We chatted over subspace last week, but it was just catching up. Why?"

"You know the _Berlin_ and the _Enterprise_ are going to be in pretty close proximity for the next little while – close enough to visit."

"And you're telling me this, why?" I pulled a white blouse out of the closet. No. Too virginal. I put it back and chose a blue one. It was a keeper and was moved to the front of the closet. "We broke up within weeks after he got PCS'd. He's been dating, like, three or four girls at a time."

"True," she said. "But you're still friends, aren't you? And T'vek had this way of shaking you up a little."

"I've been shaken up recently," I told her. Apparently Guinan didn't own the copyright on being cryptic. "Trust me, I've been shaken up a _lot_."

"Zoe…?" She trailed off and was quiet for almost a minute. Finally, she asked, "Zoe… what's the truth? What's really going on with you and Data?"

I joined her, sitting on my bed cross-legged and facing her. "You cannot – you _cannot_ tell _anyone_ about this. I mean it. This isn't our usual stuff about who likes whom and which of the boys makes the best pirate king – I still vote for Tev, by the way – it's… it's _real._ "

"I promise," she said. "I absolutely promise."

"Okay," I said. "Do you remember how I was really spooked and strange when I got back from San Francisco?"

"You said you had a stalker."

"It's more than that. Back in February, when I disappeared on the space station?" I waited for her non-verbal confirmation before I went on. "I was actually following someone I'd thought was Data, because we'd argued during my music lesson, and I wanted to apologize for being a brat. Except it wasn't Data; it was his brother, Lore."

"I'd heard he had an evil twin," Annette murmured. "Go on?"

So, I told her about Lore kissing me and Lore stalking me and Lore finding me on my way home, and how - and why – I'd really pierced my tongue. And then I told her the rest… how I'd actually been staying with Data that first week back and –"

"Wait, you were living with him? I mean, _living_ with him?" she said. "Zoe, that's _big_."

"It wasn't like that. He doesn't sleep. Aside from his cat, I'm pretty sure I'm the ONLY person who's ever used his bed. By the way, did you know senior officers have full-on water showers? Anyway, we spent a lot of time together, and in order to get - in order to get Lore's tongue stud out…"

"Oh, my god, you kissed Data!"

"He kissed me back," I said softly. "And since then we've been…I don't know, it's like we're doing this weird dance where one day we're really intimate, and the next day we back away – or I back away – and people like Geordi and Guinan and Counselor Troi keep telling me not to worry, and just to trust the connection we seem to have."

" _Do_ have," she said. "We all see it." A light dawned in her eyes. "So, the reason you're not in class is because you two are…" She didn't finish her sentence, but her eyebrows lifted.

"We're _not,_ " I insisted. "Actually, I don't know what we are. Counselor Troi said we should spend more time together doing public things so people get that we're just friends, except…"

"Something happened that shut the door on 'just friends,'" my friend guessed.

"Yeah. The Saturday before the play…" I told her the rest – not the intimate details, and certainly not the bit about Data having an 'off' switch – but enough. "And the thing is, even without having kissed him - again – too much has happened – I was tinkering in his _head_ – to go back and pretend to just be a student." I hesitated, "And then I told him I needed a break from… everything."

Annette moved on my bed and gathered me into a hug. "No wonder you've been moody and weird. You've been dealing with so much."

"I wanted to tell you all. I really did."

"No, I know. But you couldn't."

"You won't repeat it…?"

"Of course not."

"I know this is going to sound really weird, Annette, but… I miss him."

"It's not weird," she said, and grinned. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he misses you, too."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," she said. "Hey, have I told you the latest news from Wes?"

We talked long into the night, replicating junk food at regular intervals. It felt good to have someone else in on the other life I was apparently living. It felt even _better_ to just hang out with a friend.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44891.12**

**(Wednesday, 22 November 2367, 06:15 hours, ship's time)**

The incessant pinging of the comm-system in our living room woke me hours before my alarm, and I raced to answer it before it woke Mom, as well, before I remembered she was already on duty. When I checked, it, though, it wasn't a live message, but a string of recordings and text-only notes beginning with my test results from the college entrance exams and including an invitation to a college fair a week or so away at Starbase 84, and whole library's worth of digital brochures from colleges and universities throughout the Federation with recruitment ads.

I forwarded the test results to my entire family, the fair invitation to my mother, and, since I'd also had a message from Geordi cancelling flitter lessons that morning for 'personal reasons,' I picked up my cello and worked on that Faure Pavane that had been the last thing I'd played with Data. It was a haunting piece... full of longing and agony. I kept at it for about ninety minutes, and the time spent on music helped me find the kind of inner peace I'd been sorely lacking.

I spent the rest of the morning browsing through the brochures, killing the time until noon, and the weekly lunch in Ten-Forward with my friends, who had also received their exam results, and were uniformly miffed when I wouldn't share mine, explaining, "There's someone I have to tell first."

**(=A=)**

I went to my afternoon classes, met with Counselor Troi, and found myself, padd in hand staring at Data's door at about five-thirty that evening. I didn't know if he'd taken me off his privacy lock, or not, but the door opened for me when I reached for the door-chime, and Spot came zooming out, only to stop and weave between my feet when she realized who I was.

I bent down to scoop her into my arms – tricky, while still holding the padd – and carried her inside, calling, "Data? Are you here?"

There was no answer, and while the room was softly lit, the way he typically left it so that his cat wouldn't spend her days in total darkness, his console was shut down. As soon as the door _wooshed_ closed behind me, I let Spot jump back to the floor.

The scent of linseed oil filled the room, and the familiar lines of the space had been changed - altered, I realized, by at least a dozen canvases. Paintings. "Computer, increase room illumination to eighty percent of standard."

The lights came up and my breath went out of me, all at once, because they weren't Data's usual 'processing' paintings. They weren't people he'd lost, or struggled with, or couldn't save, or wanted to kill (but didn't). They were all… me.

The one still on the easel was me with my cello, looking up with a slightly annoyed expression, but the others… me as Juliet, me cuddling Spot…. All of them showed the softer side of me, but the one that really struck me was a painting of me sitting in the corner of his couch, my hair obviously damp, a cup of tea cradled in my hands…"Oh, god…" It was our very first video night, from that week in September. _I need a dose of normal_ , I'd told him, and he'd given it to me, picking apart that film, keeping me distracted, making sure I felt safe and cared for.

The couch was obscured by the paintings, so I left my padd on his desk and sat on the floor, cross-legged. I knew I wasn't supposed to be there. I knew I was invading Data's privacy. _But I'm still on his privacy lock._ I knew we still had a lot of work to figure out what we were and where we were going and how fast. In that moment, I didn't care.

I don't remember how long I sat on Data's floor. Probably, it was about an hour. He came home for Spot's feeding time and found me there. "Zoe…?"

I didn't stand, just looked up at him. "Is this how you see me?"

His answer was a simple, "Yes," delivered with a very slight widening of his eyes and lifting of his brows. He came closer and extended a hand down toward me. I uncrossed my legs, took his hand, and let him help me up. "Do you like them?"

"Like them? Data, they're - they're _amazing_." I softened my tone. " _You're_ amazing." I hadn't let go of his hand. Or, actually, _he_ hadn't let go of _mine_. "Promise me you'll do something with these? Show them, even if it's just in the next art show in the arboretum?"

"I will do so."

"Data… I _really_ can't be your student now."

"No," he agreed. "We have moved far beyond that dynamic."

"Pretty sure we shut the door on 'just friends,' as well."

"Because we are physically intimate." He made it a statement.

"No. Well, yes, but not _only_ that." I took a breath. "I mean, Data, those are not the paintings someone who's only a friend would ever do. I mean – there isn't one of them in which I'm anything but fully dressed, and yet, there's something really naked, and in most of them, it's obvious that I'm looking at you." I paused, then asked, "Could you move a couple of them, though, just so we can sit?"

He released my hand and went to move some of the paintings. I retrieved my padd and went to the replicator for two cups of lemon-mint tea, then went to my spot on the couch. Data came to join me a moment later.

"May I speak first?" he asked. I nodded, and he continued. "When I asked for your assistance with Lore's chip, I believed it to be a necessary act. I did not anticipate the distress I would cause you, or that events would cause me to betray your trust. I believe you know that I would not – indeed I _can_ not – intentionally cause you harm?" Again, I nodded. "I am sorry that I did hurt you, and that in doing so I cause a rift in our…" he hesitated briefly before uttering the word, "relationship."

"It wasn't all you," I said. "I knew you were manipulating me. I _let_ you do it. I actually kind of like the notion that even _you_ have a tiny bit of a dark side, and I hadn't realized before exactly how many layers of masks that you actually wear, but… but that's a subject for another time. Just like discussing the fact that you made some promise to my mother is a subject for another time, although," and I smiled at him, "she did help me realize that the fact that you'd even discussed our possible future meant you'd given me – given _us_ – some thought."

"I have," he said softly, "considered _many_ possible permutations of our relationship."

I held up a hand. "Don't list them right now, okay?"

"I will not," he agreed, "If you will do something for me."

"Tell me?"

"Please do not run from me the next time we kiss, even if I cause you to become angry or upset immediately afterward. It… confuses me."

"Is there going to be a 'next time'?" I asked, surprised that he was being so forthright. I wondered if he'd had a little 'counseling' from Geordi as well.

"Do you not want there to be?" Had there been the merest trace of a hint of a smirk in that question?

"I want a lot of things, Data, but even if I'm no longer your student, I am still sixteen, at least for the next two months, and…" I wanted to jump right to what I'd discussed with Geordi, but there was something else I had to address with him first, something I hadn't had the words to say before my intensive time in counseling. "Part of why I needed a break is that I felt like in asking me to help you with that chip, and then in putting me in a position where I had to deactivate you, you betrayed the trust we'd built as friends who were moving - slowly, but still moving - toward… more."

"That was never my intention," he said.

"I understand that now. And like I said, I _let_ you convince me to do it. And if we're going to be friends who kiss now, that can't happen again."

"No," Data agreed soberly. Then he promised, "It will not."

"Okay."

We were both quiet for a while, sipping our tea, and settling into each other's company again. I knew our conversation wasn't finished, but there was something restful in the silence.

It was Data who spoke first, with a note of vulnerability in his tone. "Is being 'friends who kiss' something you want, Zoe?"

I thought about what I'd said to Geordi, what he'd told me to repeat. "I want a lot of things, Data. But there's a big gulf between what I want and what I can have, not to mention that you have to want it, too."

"An apt description," he observed. "I believe," he continued, "that we will have to navigate that gulf together."

"I'm good with that," I said. I picked my teacup up from the coffee table drained what was left and put it back down next to my padd. "Oh! I forgot the real reason I came here."

"You did not come here with the intention of changing the parameters of our relationship?"

"No. I mean, yes, of course I did, but the primary impetus was this." I picked up my padd and handed it to him. "I'm sure you know this already, because you had all my friends in class today, but we got our boards results this morning."

Data looked at the information on the padd and then back at me. "You have scored in the 98th percentile," he said. "Zoe, that is excellent."

"Yes," I beamed. "It is. Now read the score breakdown and accept credit where it's due."

"Your math score is twenty points higher than your verbal score." His eyebrows lifted in apparent surprise.

I laughed softly. "I bet you never expected that. I know I didn't."

"No, but it is a pleasant surprise."

"For both of us," I said, laughing again. "It's traditional that good scores are toasted with a family dinner. I haven't actually _spoken_ to my mother yet, today, but…" I trailed off, realizing that the tea I'd drunk had created an urgent need. "… um, can we table this for a moment, and may I use your bathroom?"

"You have always been free to do so. I will wait."

I excused myself to answer nature's call and took time to splash water on my face. Staring into the mirror, I realized I looked happy for the first time in a long while. I made a face at my reflection, then opened Data's medicine cabinet. He was still using the slightly scented pomade that I'd switched with his unscented container months before, and that fact made me laugh again.

When I returned to main living area, Data was completing a comm-call. "Very well, we will meet you there. Data out," he said. Then he turned to me. "I have taken the liberty of contacting your mother on your behalf and asking her to meet us in Ten-Forward for your celebratory dinner in thirty minutes. Professor Benoit will also be attending." He paused for a moment, looking at me. "Is that… o-kay?"

He never _would_ be able to utter that word smoothly, and I thought it was adorable.

"More than okay," I said. I rejoined him on the couch, but instead of sitting in the corner, I sat down closer to him. "I need to ask you something a little awkward."

"Please, do so."

"Is it true that you wrote a subroutine to handle your relationship with Jenna, and that you deleted it when you and she… ended things?

He lowered his eyes, then raised them to my face again. "It is true."

"Geordi said you couldn't delete me that way; is that also true?"

"It is."

"Why?"

"I did not write a subroutine to handle my responses to you, Zoe," he said softly. "Instead, responses to you have been incorporated into every aspect of my programming."

_Every aspect?_ "Oh," I said numbly. "Okay. That's good to know."

"We must leave now," he said, "if we are to meet your mother and the professor on time." He rose from the couch, once again offering me his hand to help me up. I was suddenly glad that I'd worn one of the outfits Annette and I had picked out when we had been revamping my closet.

At the door, I halted. "Data, wait," I said. He looked at me with 'query' all over his face, and I smiled softly, "That break I said I needed? I think it's over now."

His response surprised me, because it was completely non-verbal. He raised his left hand and lifted my chin just a little bit. Then he bent his head forward and kissed me. It was soft, and tender, and spoke volumes, and was over too soon, but the taste of him, the fact that it had come _from_ him, still left me breathless.

I knew we still had to figure out the 'rules' for this new version of us. I knew we still had issues to work through. But for the first time, I also knew – _really knew_ – that we _could_ do it. We weren't a couple, exactly, but we were definitely an _us_.

"Yeah," I said, feeling my heart racing in my chest. "Break's definitely over."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spans the episode The Mind's Eye although the reference is incredibly oblique. Now all of you have confirmation of something Zoe never made clear to T'vek: Sven is a real person. Farm kids getting driver's licenses at fourteen is something I stole from my husband's own life. He grew up in rural South Dakota, and was driving (legally, on a special farm permit) at 13.   
> Special thanks go to Javanyet, Moonlady, Phangirl28, and saya4haji for their specific help, suggestions, and general support.  
> To learn what Data was up to during their break, check out the one-shots "Three Little Words" and "Musings on a Saturday Morning."


	14. Etudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe returns to the Enterprise after her holiday break on Centaurus, and she and Data have their first date outside the vacation bubble.

**Etudes**

_Data released his embrace, and we both stood up. "I will see you soon," he promised. He brushed some of my hair away from my face and bent to kiss me. It wasn't long enough, but it promised more._

_I hugged him, hard. "Travel safe." I said._

_"I will try," he answered, never one to promise more than he could deliver. Very softly, he added the two words that made my breath catch in my throat. "My Zoe."_

**\- from _For Auld Lang Syne, "Song for a Winter's Night Part IV"_**

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45029.18**

**(Thursday, 11 January 2368, 16:23 hours, ship's time)**

In music, an etude is a practice piece, a short composition designed to help you hone a specific technique. Sometimes they're used as recital pieces, but most etudes are for learning purposes only. Through the ages, music tastes and trends have changed, but the etudes most cellists use in their studies never have. David Popper's 40 etudes have been the standard for hundreds of years and represent some of the best cello studies to come out of the Romantic period.

I wasn't at all surprised, then, that when I walked into the quarters I shared with my mother on the day I got back to the _Enterprise_ , I was greeted by a vase of flowers (a mix of sunflowers and irises – my two favorites – flowers that should never have been put together, but somehow worked), and a copy of Popper's etudes. Separately, either the flowers or the music would have been a thoughtful and lovely welcome-home gift, but together, I knew they were a statement: we were partners, Data was saying, in more ways than one. He really was the best boyfriend ever.

Boyfriend. Over the course of a twenty-something hour shuttle flight to Centaurus and a subsequent three-day stay at my father's house, Lieutenant Commander Data, android, musician, artist, scientist, cat-owner, and second officer of Starfleet's flagship had become my _boyfriend_.

I hadn't seen him in ten days.

"Aren't you going to read the card, Zoe?"

My mother had met me at the shuttle bay, and we'd talked on the walk back to our quarters on deck nine. She'd told me that Ed hadn't officially proposed yet because he wanted to speak with me, but that they were discussing marriage. I'd told her about the change in my relationship with Data, and how my father's concern wasn't my age or his rank, or even that Data was technically a machine, but that he was a Starfleet officer, which came with its own set of troubles.

The kind of troubles that had killed my parents' relationship.

"There's a card?" I felt stupid. Data had written me a letter – I'd have called it a love letter but was it, really, when the man sending it claimed not to feel love, and had, in fact, used bullet points? – within hours of leaving my homeworld ten days before. Of _course,_ there would be a card. I plucked it out of the center of the flower arrangement, read it, and smiled.

"Dinner invitation?" Mom guessed.

"Actually, no," I said. "Data's working on an engineering project with Geordi, and then he's got a dog watch on the bridge until two."

"So, you won't see him until…?"

"Breakfast," I told my mother, holding out the card. "He invited me to breakfast before class. He wanted me to have time to decompress." I grinned at her, then added, "Besides, he knows it's been almost a month since I've seen my favorite mother. Tonight's about us. Is the spa still open? Because I see mani-pedis in our immediate future."

My mother laughed and pulled me into a warm hug. "I've missed you, Zoificus. Spa and supper?"

"Sounds like a plan… but do you mind if I shower first?" I wrinkled my nose. "I smell like shuttlecraft."

"Go! Scoot!"

**(=A=)**

Over dinner in our quarters, I finally told Mom about my hopes for the summer. "So, we ran into Lachlan Meade from ACT at Red Sands one morning."

"Isn't he the instructor you hated?"

"I didn't hate him, so much as I thought he hated me," I corrected. "I learned a lot from him, though. Anyway, he's directing the summer stock program at Idyllwild this year. He asked me to audition, and offered me the job…"

Mom cut me off. "Job? Zoe, you're still in school."

"I know," I said. "But it's an opportunity that won't come often. Maybe never. It's three months in San Francisco during the summer, and then a tour. I'll be resident ingénue. Three or four plays in rotation, and I'll be in at least two. Featured roles, even. But I'd have to miss the first semester of next year, and…"

"And?"

"And I'm under eighteen, so either a parent or guardian would have to tour with me, or I'd have to be legally emancipated."

"What did your father say?"

"He said it's up to you but agreed it's a really amazing opportunity." I hesitated for a few seconds, then, softly, added, "Data thinks I should go."

"You talked about it with him?"

"He was there when Lach asked me to set up the audition," I said. "But, I'd have asked his opinion anyway. He said it was a 'rare and valuable opportunity' and that it would likely be a beneficial experience. He _also_ said he wasn't eager for me to be away that long, but when I asked him if _he'd_ go, he said yes."

"I can't take three months off to go with you, sweetie."

"I know. That's why I think I need to be emancipated." I outlined all the reasons why, and explained the terms of the contract, as well.

"I suppose you've already done the research on what exactly emancipation means?" My mother knew me too well.

"I might've had help," I confessed. "There are levels anyway. Some of them give me the right to make my own legal decisions, some sever all parent-child obligations."

"Let's set up a conference call with your father and discuss it," she said after eating several green beans, one at a time. "I agree with Data. It _is_ a rare opportunity, and one with value, but it's a big decision, and since there are contracts involved we need to proceed with caution."

"That's fair," I said.

We finished dinner, and I excused myself to unpack, check my schedule, and comm my friends to set up something for the Friday afternoon. Annette suggested booking one of the holodecks for a couple of hours and Josh told me that he and Rryl had created a new program they wanted to share, so once Dana had secured permission from her father, we all agreed to meet around 1900 hours.

Normally, I would have curled up with a book after that, as it was still relatively early, but that night I felt the need to do something physical. And musical. I took my cello out of its travel case, tuned it, and started working on the first of the etudes in the Popper book. I used it as a warm-up, playing it through a couple of times and then actually picking it apart, paying special attention to the trickier parts. I wasn't sure exactly what Data's plan was, with regard to these exercises in pitch and dexterity, but I was certain there _was_ a plan, and I knew preparation would be in my best interest.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45030.30**

**(Friday, 12 January 2368, 02:13 hours, ship's time)**

I shouldn't have played music, even just etudes, so close to bedtime. I'd turned out my light around eleven, but I couldn't fall asleep. Or, rather, I couldn't _stay_ asleep. Like a small child on Christmas Eve, I kept waking up and staring at the clock, convinced breakfast time would never arrive.

By one, I was frustrated with myself. True, I hadn't seen (or touched, or kissed) Data in more than ten days, but surely, I could manage seven more hours. I adjusted my pillows, closed my eyes, and used the breathing techniques I'd initially learned from T'vek and still used. Meditative breathing. Calming, cleansing, breaths.

I was awake again in seventy minutes.

I rolled over and picked up Data's card from where I'd left it on the nightstand, not so much to reread as to hold something he'd touched recently. For an instant, I thought about just going to see him right then, but I knew that was just being over-tired.

I closed my eyes again, and tried the meditative breathing, but it wasn't working. Finally, I touched the comm-badge that I'd left on the table with the card. "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data."

_\- "Data here. Zoe, is everything alright?"_

"I'm sorry to bother you," I said. "And it's silly, and I won't abuse the comm-system like this again but…" I hesitated, because I really did feel a bit silly once I'd heard his voice.

_\- "You are not 'abusing' the comm-system, but please tell me how I can help you?"_

_I just wanted to hear your voice,_ I didn't say. Out loud, I told him, "I wanted to thank you for the flowers," I said. "They're lovely and it was a nice surprise."

_\- "Most literature on the subject of romantic relationships suggests that roses are the optimal choice of flower for one's partner, however, I recall you saying that you dislike roses."_

"Irises and sunflowers are my favorites," I confirmed. "And you're right, I do hate roses."

_\- "Then, this is not a time you will be frustrated that I am right?"_

He said it in a slightly teasing tone, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. "No, it's a time when you get a gold star for sheer awesomeness." I hoped he could hear the smile in my voice. "I should go back to sleep. I just… needed to hear your voice."

_\- "I understand, Zoe. I have missed you, as well. Rest well. I will see you at breakfast."_

"I'll be there. G'night, Data." I cut the signal.

When I tried the breathing exercises again, they worked.

**(=A=)**

Roughly six hours later, I stood outside Data's door, and pressed the annunciator button, not sure if I should be excited or worried that he'd removed me from his lock. Actually, I was more than a little nervous just in general. His letter had been amazing, but we were still so new, and being on the ship was different than being on vacation.

"Come in!" he called out. He met me just inside and made the two syllables of my name into the sweetest greeting I could imagine. "Zoe…"

I set my padd on the edge of his desk, stepped close to him, and rested my hands flat against his chest, feeling the subtle _thrum_ of him, as well as his pulse. The former moved all through him, not just at the places where human pulse-points were located, and I was rapidly becoming attuned to it. "I missed you," I said, looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry about comm-ing you in the middle of the night."

"Do not be. As I stated, I have missed you, as well." His hands went to my waist, and we kissed, but then he held me away from him. "I am afraid we must delay any further intimacy until after our meal. I do not wish to risk being late for class."

My stomach growled, emphasizing his point. "I'll try to cope," I said drily, "what are we having."

"Nothing that you would term 'fancy,'" he said. "I simply did not believe our reunion should be in front of your classmates," he added, guiding me to the table. There was a small vase on it, I noticed, with more sunflowers, and he'd replaced the couch.

"No, private is good," I agreed. "You've been redecorating."

"Reviews of the design imply that this couch should be fifty-three percent more comfortable and seventeen percent more conducive to 'cuddling' than the previous model."

I had to chuckle at that. "I look forward to finding out."

"As do I." He presented me with a spinach and mushroom omelet, slices of melons from three different worlds, and a mug of coffee with exactly the amount of milk I preferred. "Please eat."

I didn't have to be asked twice. We split some of my omelet and some of the fruit onto a second plate, and as we ate, he told me what he could of the mission that had pulled him away from Centaurus earlier than planned. "It was not until I questioned him that Captain Picard assigned me to command the _Sutherland_ ," he told me.

"So, you were Captain Data?" I asked, unable to keep from smiling. "Did you get to wear red?"

"My uniform did not change," he said. Reacting to my look of confusion, he explained, "In Starfleet, 'captain' can be a position as well as a rank. In this case, I was given the position of captain and command of a vessel, but my rank remained unchanged."

"So, you could have technically been in charge of people who outranked you?"

"That is unlikely," he said. "As any more senior officer would likely have been given command."

"But, in theory…"

"Yes, Zoe, in theory it could have occurred. However, it did not."

"I'd have liked to see you be in charge. In command. I don't suppose there's video?"

"There is a 'black box' recording, of course, but that is not typically accessed unless a ship takes on significant damage or a breach of security has occurred."

"I guess we'll just have to stay together long enough for you to actually become captain, then," I said loftily. I was teasing – mostly – and we both knew it, but the words seemed to charge the atmosphere in the room. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean...I mean...I don't really expect...I hadn't meant to be presumptuous."

"You were not," he said softly.

"My father really did ask about your intentions, didn't he?" I hadn't really believed it when I'd originally asked about the conversation they'd had while I was surfing.

"He did," Data said. "And I have not forgotten that I promised to share the details of that discussion."

"But now isn't the time?"

"I am afraid not."

"I should make _you_ wait to hear about my Idyllwild audition," I said, "but you were there when Lach said it was basically a formality, so I guess you should know they offered me the contract, but since I won't turn eighteen until a couple months after the tour ends, either a parent or guardian has to go with me, or I have to be legally emancipated – either way, they're required to provide a tutor, so my grades won't suffer any, and Dad said the money they're offering is pretty generous."

"Your father is unlikely to be able to go with you, and I know that your mother does not have that much accrued leave."

"True on both counts. I asked Nick if he could help with the legal stuff, and we're setting up a conference call with Dad, and then with him _and_ Dad to discuss options."

"If I can be of any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Actually, there's some question of whether I can be legally emancipated without losing my status as my mother's dependent, which wouldn't matter, except if I'm not in her care, I don't think I'm allowed to be a student here."

"I do not believe you have cause for concern, Zoe. Whether or not you are a legal dependent of your mother, you will be welcome here."

I reached out to cover his hand with mine, and he immediately turned his hand beneath it and interlaced our fingers. I wondered if that had become an automatic response and resolved to ask him, but that, too, was for another time. "Thank you."

"If you are finished eating, we have one more subject to discuss before class."

"You mean, whether or not my friends have a problem with me being there, even with Geordi grading my work?"

"Precisely."

"What's to discuss? We tell them we're dating, and that you won't be grading me. We answer any reasonable questions. We let them vote on whether or not I get to stay. Besides, Annette and Dana already know I _wanted_ this – us. Annette knows more, but, you can't be my entire support system and Mom is… Mom."

He took a beat, apparently processing the information that I'd spoken of our burgeoning relationship with my friends. "It is good that you have that support," he said. "Despite that, have you considered what to do if your friends are _not_ comfortable with your continued presence in my tutorial?"

"They won't _be_ uncomfortable," I insisted. He held my gaze until I looked away from him. "I have a contingency plan for that - three different contingencies, actually," I admitted. "I assumed Geordi had told you."

"He did not. We have had other matters that took priority, and we were both off the ship during our mission."

I nodded to show him that I understood and explained. "I can either go back to regular math – just to have the credit -  or, I can challenge for a credit in regular math, so I don't have to sit there and be bored five hours a week, or I can do an independent study, which Geordi will still grade, but I'd have to do it on my own, and I don't think I'm that bright."

"You are underestimating yourself in that regard," Data said. "You have never been the 'abysmal' math student you claimed to be when you first petitioned for a place in my class, and you have more than 'held your own' since then. Your scores on the college board examinations demonstrated as much.

I chose not to argue is point. "Well, I'm open to other ideas, if you have any."

"I do not. Even if we ended our relationship –" We were still holding hands; he felt my muscles tense at that. "- which is _not_ an option I wish to exercise – it would be inappropriate for you to return to class if I am scoring your work."

"I know that." I shook my head, as the absurdity of the situation hit me. Then I started laughing.

"What is funny?" He was honestly confused.

"I'm fighting to stay in a class I didn't originally want to be in, for a subject I don't even like," I said. "Even if you can't actually laugh at that, you _have_ to appreciate the irony."

He took a fraction of a second to process. "It is ironic," he agreed.

"But I don't really have a choice, if I don't want my GPA to suffer."

"No, you do not. And your continued absence changes the dynamics of the class in ways your friends do not appear to appreciate."

I slipped my hand from his and stacked our empty plates to be recycled. "How much time do we have left?" I asked the question as I cleared the table.

"Based on your average walking speed, the shortest route to the conference room, and the likelihood of the turbolift cars being in their optimal positions, we have fifteen minutes before we must leave."

"Perfect. Let's spend ten evaluating that couch."

"Evaluating?"

I smirked at him. "I'd like a little more 'physical intimacy' before I have to go be a student."

"Why ten minutes?"

"Five to use the bathroom, after."

"Ah."

We moved to the couch where, instead of taking my usual position curled into the corner farthest from the door, I cuddled against him. "I approve of the upgrade," I said softly.

Data's answer was to ghost a kiss across the top of my head and tell me softly. "You wished to know how we will 'be' here on the _Enterprise._ We will be like this. We will do it by spending time together, as we always have, but with…"

" _More_." I finished for him.

"Exactly, Zoe. With… _more._ "

I smiled. I liked… _more_. But ten minutes ticked by too quickly, and when Data quite literally called 'time,' I excused myself to use the bathroom and put on the lipstick I'd intentionally left off before. Walking through his bedroom, I noticed the other furniture changes – he'd installed a larger bed with ledges on each side -  and made a note to twit him about it later. Feeling more prepared to face the rest of the day I returned to the main room. "Should we leave separately?" I asked, mostly teasing.

For a change, the person offering a pointed look was him, not me. "That would be unnecessary," he said matter-of-factly.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45032.10**

**(Friday, 12 January 2368, 18:00 hours, ship's time)**

"Dana, it's your turn."

Annette, Dana, Josh, Rryl, and I were sitting on the floor around the coffee table in my quarters, the pieces of a board game scattered on the table in front of us. We'd ended up coming there after our last classes of the day and had decided that board games and junk food were more compelling than playing on the holodeck.

"I want to make an accusation," Dana said. She placed a yellow marker in a round space on the game board and added a game piece meant to represent a medical device. "I think the killer is Lt. Commander Mustard, in the astrometrics lab, with dermal regenerator."

"I can disprove that," I said, flashing her a peek at the evidence - Lt. Commander Mustard's character card was in my hand.

"Arghhh! I was sure I had it! Ryll, it's your go."

Rryl tapped the data flimsy with his notes and moved the requisite pieces into the proper section of the board. "You have all missed the obvious clues to our mystery, my friends," he intoned. "The murder of Ensign Boddy was clearly committed by Doctor Peacock, in the arboretum, with a circuit attenuator!"

We all stared at the usually-quiet Akkallan boy. "No way," I said. I'd actually suspected the doctor, but not the weapon or location.

"Can anyone disprove this?" Annette asked.

None of us could.

"Shall I check the dossier?" Josh asked.

"Do it," Dana said."

Josh flipped over the three translucent cards which proved that Rryl was right.

"And the winner of _Starship Conundrum_ is Rryl!" I announced. " _You_ get a prize."

"Wait, there are prizes?" Josh asked. "How did I not know there were prizes?"

"Actually," I said, standing up, " _Everybody_ gets a prize. I'll be right back." I went into my room and retrieved the presents I'd brought home for all my friends. "Rryl, Josh, Annette, Dana…"

"Zoe, you didn't have to…" Dana began, while the boys were already ripping into their packages.

"Are you kidding? You all proved what great friends you are when you were completely cool about Data and me in class today. I was convinced you'd make me leave."

"Are _you_ kidding?" That was from Josh again. "We're counting on you to get us early access to exams."

"Keep dreaming, Joshua," I told him, using the hated full version of his name intentionally.

"Zoe, these are lovely!" Annette held up the coral necklace and earrings I'd brought back for each of the girls. The boys each got a tooth from one of Centaurus's pelagic toothy fish strung on black cording, and all four of my friends had t-shirts from the Great Oreas Lighthouse.

Dana hugged me impulsively, "I love these." Her coral was blue, while Annette's was orange.

I hugged her back. "I wish you all could have come with me."

Rryl and Josh were equally pleased with their gifts, and I was delighted that my friends liked what I brought them. "Seriously, Zoe," Josh said, "could you visit more places, so we can get more loot?" I was sitting against the couch, so it was easy enough to grab a throw pillow and lob it at him. "Hey!"

He lobbed it back at me, but his aim was off, and it sailed harmlessly through the gap between Annette and Rryl. "Your pillow-tossing skills need serious work, my friend," the Akkallan boy observed. He began gathering the pieces of the game, "Should we play another round, or should we try something else?"

"Wait, is Zoe even available for another game?" Josh asked the room.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Friday night? You and Data don't have _plans_?" the blond boy waggled his eyebrows on the word plans, earning a glower from his girlfriend.

I rolled my eyes at him. "We're dating, not attached at the hip." I was pretty sure it was more than dating, but the details really didn't need to be explained just then. "Besides, I spent a good chunk of my holiday with Data – he came to the house on his way back from Kneriad – I haven't had decent hang-out time with all of you since… November? God, I'm a horrible friend."

Both Dana and Annette wrapped their arms around me. "You're not," Annette said. "You've just had a lot on your plate. We get it."

"Okay, but… you're leaving for college at the end of this school year, and the rest of us only have a year left, and I might not even be here for half of it… so… let's agree to hang out more regularly? Maybe every Friday? It doesn't have to be all night -just after classes. As it is I'm pretty sure it's about time for Dana and Josh to go off and do some couplish canoodling."

"Actually," Rryl said, " _I_ have a date tonight."

All four of us were keenly interested. Dana leaned toward him. "Do tell?"

"It is with Serena, from our Federation History class."

"Oh, she's cool. I've run into her at the pool a couple of times," I said. "So, how much longer do we have you for tonight?"

"About an hour," Rryl answered.

"Mmm. Not enough time for another round of _Conundrum_." Being on Centaurus had reminded me of the games we kids had played at Gran's farm, though - the games that didn't require pieces or dice or cards. "What if I told you that we could lift Rryl over our heads using only two fingers each?"

And so, I introduced my friends to some decidedly low-tech fun. I'm betting it was the first time anyone had played "Light as a feather; Stiff as a board" on a starship. It definitely wouldn't be the last.

**(=A=)**

By nineteen-thirty, Rryl had gone to get ready for his date, and Josh and Dana had excused themselves, as well. Annette and I looked at each other and made matching wry faces.

"It's kind of ironic," she said, "that we're both in relationships, and yet we're alone on Friday night."

"How _is_ Wes, anyway?" I asked. "He said something about being on Caldos over Christmas, the last time we exchanged mail?"

"I was there with him," she said. "I don't think we're going to last much longer."

"Oh, Annette, I'm sorry." I moved onto the couch and she did the same.

"Don't be. We're growing in different directions."

"It happens, I guess."

"It won't happen with you and Data."

I shook my head. "You don't know that. You can't know that. Anyway, we're brand new. I mean, the holidays were _amazing_ , but then he got called back here and I realized what my father used to go through with Mom."

"I thought he was just transporting you to Centaurus, not staying. How was that, anyway, twenty-six hours in a shuttlecraft?"

I smiled, remembering. "It was… it was good. We talked. We played poker. We had a sing-a-long."

"A sing-a-long."

"Mmhmm. Every road trip must have a sing-a-long; it's a rule."

My friend burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Zoe. I'm trying to picture Data participating in a sing-a-long, and I just can't do it."

"He has a lovely voice, Annette. Really. But if you have a hard time picturing _tha_ t, your brain's going to explode when I tell you that he came to the beach to watch me surf and wore khakis… and sandals."

Her jaw literally dropped. "Please tell me you have photographic evidence."

"I do, but I don't have Data's permission to share, so you'll have to wait to see."

"Zoe?"

"Yeah?"

"Amazing? Really?"

I smiled softly. "Amazing. Really."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45033.86**

**(Saturday, 13 January 2368, 09:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Good morning! Happy Saturday!" I was so excited to be playing music with Data again that I couldn't help the loud and somewhat sing-songy greeting I offered as I breezed through his door with my cello. I was half an hour earlier than usual, but the change in time had been at his request.

"You seem very exuberant this morning," he said, rising from his console. He took my cello and set it against the wall, and then turned back to me and kissed me very gently. "Exuberance suits you."

I laughed and hugged him briefly. "I'm jazzed about playing with you, is all. I started working on the first etude the first night I got back to the ship. Why etudes? They're not part of the audition requirements."

"No," he agreed, "they are not. Nor is their study a requirement of our coaching agreement. I will leave it to you to determine the reason for asking you to work through Popper's collection. However, before we can begin our new agenda, there is a final examination for you to complete, which is why I asked you to arrive early."

"Oh?"

"Yes. By beginning now, there will be time for us to break for lunch and still have two hours to play music." He paused for a beat before adding, "Commander Riker's jazz combo is playing a concert in Ten-Forward tonight. Would you like to attend with me?"

"Are you inviting me on a date?" I was pretty certain he was, but it didn't hurt to confirm.

"I am." His eyes were wide, steady, locked on mine.

"What time?"

"They will begin at twenty-hundred hours. If you would like dinner, we can eat before or afterward."

I smiled. "I'll want to change first."

"Then we should begin your examination."

"I'm ready when you are."

He cocked his head slightly, his demeanor shifting into a more professional mode. "Please be seated, Ms. Harris, and we will begin." I took a seat at his table, and he put a padd in front of me. "Press the start button when you are ready." He went back to his console, and whatever he'd been working on when I'd arrived.

The computerized music theory exam wasn't as in-depth as Data's test would have been; there was no hands-on section, for one thing. Nevertheless, it took me the full two hours to complete it. Interestingly, the padd also took longer to generate a score.

"Did I pass?" I asked.

"Did you doubt that you would?"

"With you as a teacher? Never." I took a beat. "But I prefer the partnership we're starting after lunch. Playing with you… when we do play together… Data, it's better than surfing."

His eyebrows lifted. "I have seen how much you enjoy surfing. That is 'high praise.'"

"So, it is." I agreed. "You mentioned lunch, but unless you actually _want_ to eat, I'd rather just replicate a protein shake or a smoothie and get to music. I'm itching to play."

"I will get my violin."

I requested a chocolate raspberry protein shake and drank it while I unpacked my cello, and Data set up our music stands. We tuned our instruments together, or rather, Data tuned his violin and then played the 'A' I needed to hear to tune my cello.

"Shall we begin with the first of the Popper etudes?" he suggested. "I will play it with you."

We played it through together once, and then began picking it apart, just as we'd done other pieces in the past, but there was something different about the way we interacted. Before, he had critiqued my technique and given me pointers on improving intonation, but something about knowing we were doing this as partners rather than teacher and student made me more confident about giving _him_ advice about making his playing more expressive.

An hour flew by and I was giddy from the music. "God, Data, that was awesome, and it was only an etude."

"We do seem to have achieved the 'meshy-ness' you used to talk about when we first began working together."

I laughed. "Understatement of the year."

He tilted his head slightly, and then straightened it and tapped commands into his padd, thus changing the display on my music stand. "This is another etude, called 'Train Whistle.' It was written by an American composer who also referred to himself as Von Cello. I would like you to try it."

I scanned the music. "It's really different. Kind of avant garde. Those chords are _intense_ \- are they in fourths?" I played it through as best as I could, wrinkling nose as I finished. "That sucked."

"For a first attempt, it was not as bad as you believe," he said diplomatically. "Take a closer look at the way some of Minsky's chord progressions echo the Popper piece." He demonstrated on his violin. "Similarly, the controlled glissades are in both pieces. Then consider the title. Have you ever heard the whistle of a train?"

"Only on vids," I said. "Grav trains don't whistle."

"Allow me." He opened his mouth and a multi-toned whistling sound came out. I was caught between wonderment and amusement. He repeated the sound, then, in his usual voice, asked me to play the piece again. That time, I could hear the train whistle in the music I was playing, and almost feel the chugging of an engine.

From there, we moved on to a duet we'd played before - the Vulcan piece we'd performed for my father when he'd come to see me the previous May. That had been before my summer in San Francisco, and before Lore had pierced my tongue, and we'd played it well, but eight months later we'd both matured as musicians, and our relationship had evolved. What had previously been a technical exercise had become something like... foreplay.

"Wow," I said breathlessly, sitting all the way back in my chair. "Just… wow." My pulse was racing almost as much as it typically did whenever Data kissed me. That thought spurred another. I set my cello down on the floor, resting it on its ribs, and stood up, crossing the few feet of space that separated Data and me.

"Zoe…?"

"Could you put your violin down, please?" I asked him. He complied, and I took his hand, and pressed his fingers to my neck, over my carotid artery. "Do you feel that?" I asked him.

"Your pulse is racing," he said, and then specified the beats per minute. "Your respiration rate is altered as well, and your pupils are dilated. You are…"

"Aroused," I said. "Music does that to me sometimes." My tone was wry mixed with something else, but it didn't matter, because I didn't want to talk about music just then. In much the same way I had bent over him when he had been sitting in a beach chair on Centaurus, I lowered my head to capture his mouth with my own, kissing him, and then pulling back to watch his face.

His golden eyes were fixed on me. He lifted his fingers from my neck, but only for the briefest fraction of a second. Then he touched my skin again and stroked my neck with infinite gentleness.

His fingers were cool against my hot skin, and I gasped softly.

Data repeated the motion with slightly more pressure. I could almost sense him cataloging the way my responses changed, the way my pulse got even faster. "Zoe…" His voice was a whisper, a breath, and he swallowed reflexively, something I rarely saw him do.

I kissed him again and smiled. "Can we take this somewhere more comfortable?"

"Yes, we can."

I stepped back, giving Data space to stand up. I expected that we'd relocate to the couch, but he surprised me, lifting me into his arms. I almost thought he meant to take me to his bed, but common sense prevailed. We weren't ready for that step, neither of us, and I knew that there would be talking – a _lot_ of talking – before we were. The couch had been his destination all along, and he sat down and settled me onto his lap, the way he had on our shuttle flight to Centaurus.

"Is this better?" he asked softly.

"This is perfect," I answered. He was wearing civilian clothes, and the shirt he'd chosen – a red pullover – was close-fitting and had a lower neckline than his uniform. I ran my hands over his shoulders, reveling in the new freedom I had to touch and explore. He was solid and pliant at once, and the more I touched him, the more I wanted to.

Data's right hand was at my waist, but his left was teasing my neck again, as if, once I'd given him permission, he needed to investigate every nuance of what touching me there might do. He traced my ear with his fingers and teased my earlobe, but his attention kept moving back to my neck, to the pulse-point there.

Deciding turnabout was fair, I kissed him again on the lips, but then I pressed a kiss to where his carotid artery would have been if he had one. _Note to self: ask if he has an analog._ I was pleasantly surprised when _his_ breathing changed subtly in response to my kiss - a barely perceptible hitch - and I impulsively flicked my tongue out to taste his skin. I expected it to taste like…nothing…or plastic, I suppose. I certainly wasn't expecting the salt and sweat of organic skin, but it had the same faint flavor of cashews that his kisses did.

I opened my mouth to tell Data he tasted really good, but he'd given up on using his fingers and was placing a series of tiny kisses along my jawline and neck, nibbling softly as if he could taste my pulse. Maybe he could. He nuzzled, and then ever-so-gently sucked, the tender skin at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and I shivered. When he did it again I cried out, "Oh, God…"

"No, Zoe," his voice was _so_ close to my ear. His breath tickled my skin. "I am only Data."

I laughed softly. "That's even better." I pressed my forehead to his. "We have to stop, don't we? Right now, I mean."

"We… should," he agreed, though he seemed as reluctant as I was.

"I saw your new bed," I said softly. "Data, will there ever be a time when we don't have to stop?"

"There will… when we are both ready."

"Are you going to tell me _now_ why you're suddenly into etudes?"

"I believe I will let you figure it out."

I laughed again and slid off his lap. "I love it when you show your dark side," I teased. "I should go. Apparently, I have a hot date tonight."

"I will pick you up at nineteen-thirty hours," he said.

"I'll be ready."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45035.00**

**(Saturday, 13 January 2368, 19:30 hours, ship's time)**

My mother wasn't home when I got back to our quarters, so I called Annette and Dana for wardrobe help. We chose a winter-white V-neck sweater and a soft black skirt that worked with my favorite chunky boots, and I accessorized with a simple pair of silver earrings and the scarf (midnight blue with small metallic stars) Data had given to me on New Year's Eve. On my friends' recommendation I also left my hair down and kept my makeup to the bare minimum.

Data, of course, was right on time, still wearing that red shirt, paired with charcoal grey trousers and the soft black shoes he'd picked out in Beach Haven.

"I'm ready, I swear, but come in a minute?" I asked him.

"Zoe, are you alright?"

"Kiss," I demanded, and we shared a brief one. "I'm nervous," I explained. "I know it's just Ten-Forward, and no one's going to eat me alive or anything, but, I'm still nervous. And I need you to help me not to be."

"How do I help?" he asked.

"Ground rules." I began pacing back and forth in front of him. "You said we'd have to figure them out, but for tonight… Am I allowed to touch you? Can we hold hands? Am I supposed to pretend like we're just casual friends who happen to be sitting together? And… oh, God, why do you have to look so good in red?"

He held me by my upper arms, stilling my agitated pacing, but not hurting me. "We have traversed the corridors of the _Enterprise_ arm-in-arm on at least one occasion," he reminded me. "We have attended functions together before, as well." His eyes were locked on mine, his gaze holding me with far more force than his hands.

"Yeah, and the last one ended in you all being zapped into Sherwood Forest," I pointed out.

"I do not think it likely that anyone will be 'zapped' anywhere this evening. We are going to listen to music, and then if you are hungry we will share a meal. These are things we already do, Zoe; it is just that now we will be doing them in public."

I lowered my eyes. "Intellectually, I know all this." I said softly. "I just… People will talk."

"As we have discussed before, people are already 'talking.'"

I looked back at him, let myself get lost in those warm golden eyes of his. I took a deep breath and released it. "Okay," I said.

"O-kay?"

I smiled at him. "I'm better now. I might get jittery later, but I think I'll be okay."

He slid his hands down my arms and took my hands. "I am certain that you will be more than o-kay," he said, and I laughed, and stole another kiss.

He held my hand on the way to the turbo-lift, and then on the walk from the 'lift to the lounge.

**(=A=)**

Ten-Forward was pleasantly crowded when we arrived, and Commander Riker and the other musicians were in the middle of a warm-up on the raised platform serving as a stage. Guinan, or someone, had arranged the tables to feel like a club – two-tops and four-tops with all the chairs facing the stage, and candles flickering on each one.

It probably should have occurred to me that Data would want to sit near the people he considered friends, but it didn't until I realized that he'd chosen a table for two that was right between a table being shared by Lt. Worf and Reg Barclay, and another that was currently occupied by Geordi and Counselor Troi, with two chairs remaining open between them.

The counselor greeted me warmly when we arrived. "Zoe, I'm glad to see you here. You look tan and healthy." She gave me a brief hug.

"Three weeks of sun and surfing will do that."

"So, they will," she agreed. "But we're glad to have you home."

"Thank you," I said, feeling more comfortable already. I exchanged greetings with Geordi and Reg, the latter of whom complimented my scarf. "Oh, it was a gift," I said, glancing at Data.

We all chatted for a few more minutes before the lights flickered and we took our seats. Just before the concert started a server came by asking for drink orders, and I'm pretty sure my request for sparkling Altair water with a twist of lime surprised my companion. "I was not aware mineral water was something you enjoyed."

"I'm too jittery for coffee," I said softly. "And I didn't think you'd appreciate me ordering a martini. Although if _you_ did…"

"Perhaps next time," he said. Our drinks arrived just as the music started.

The jazz combo was surprisingly good. More importantly, all the musicians seemed to be really enjoying themselves. I'll take adequate players who are having fun over technically perfect zombie players with no personality any day, and Commander Riker had this mischievous glint in his eye whenever he played a solo on his trombone.

Three songs into the set, a singer joined the group, for a smoky version of "Fever" followed by a Risan love song (Number Seventy-three, actually – there were so many Risan love songs they only ever got numbers.) The next piece was an instrumental one – "Jazz Etudes."

"Did you put them up to that?" I asked Data in my quietest whisper.

"I… may have," he admitted.

There was a ten-minute break between sets. Our drinks were refreshed, and I noticed that Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher had taken the seats between Deanna and Geordi. Well, at least I wasn't ill or in emotional turmoil, and there was very little chance he'd speak to me anyway.

Of course, I _would_ have to be wrong.

Commander Riker came over to say hello to his colleagues – his friends – before the second set. I heard him conversing with the captain, and heard the latter ask softly about the "identity of the young woman who had convinced Commander Data to wear something other than his uniform off-duty."

If I had heard, I knew Data had as well. I met his eyes, certain I was blushing, and he leaned close to assure me, "You have nothing to worry about."

I nodded. There was really nothing to say.

"It's Zoe Harris," I heard the counselor answer. "And I think they look good together," she added. "I'm certain," she said pointedly, "that they can hear every word, as well. And if Zoe can't, we all know Data can."

"Quite true, Counselor," the captain said, and though I didn't know his tone enough to read him well, he sounded more amused than anything. "Mr. Data, Ms. Harris, are you enjoying the music?"

Data looked to me, and I smiled politely. "We are, sir, thank you," he answered for both of us.

"Are you a fan of jazz, Ms. Harris?" he persisted.

"I like pretty much all music, sir, although certain Kzinti chord progressions challenge my sanity. My grandfather played sax in a small jazz ensemble, from time to time."

"Kzinti music can be a bit grating to human ears," the captain agreed. "Who was your grandfather?"

"Parker Harris, sir. I'm told he was fairly well known in his time. He died when I was ten, so I didn't know him very well."

It was Commander Riker who reacted to that. "Zoe is there anyone in your family who isn't extraordinary or famous?"

"Aside from me, you mean?" I was only half kidding.

"I have a feeling you'll be impressing us all, and not too long from now," the trombone playing first officer said, grinning. "Captain, everyone, we have a second set. Data, are you and Zoe joining everyone for dinner after?"

"I had not realized everyone would be dining together," my gold-skinned date said. "In any case, it is up to Zoe."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," I said, meaning it. "I'm sure the last thing you all want to do is make inane conversation with a student." I'd been hoping Data would read into what I was saying, and beg off, even if it was just to escort me home and return, but I forgot who I was with, and how often he missed social cues.

"You will not be intruding," he said to me. "And I have never known you to be inane." To Commander Riker, he said, "Zoe and I would be happy to join you."

"I look forward to it," Riker said. "Zoe, do you have any requests?"

"I'm not that familiar with trombone solos," I said apologetically, "but I've always liked 'A Night in Tunisia.' If your axe man can handle it, 'Autumn Leaves' is a favorite, also."

They ended up playing both, and dinner after was not entirely horrible, partly because the captain, the doctor, and Lt. Worf all excused themselves almost immediately after the concert, and partly because when we gave our next drink orders, I asked the server to bring Data a dirty martini, and I kept stealing sips of it, causing him to give me sidelong glances, though he never objected.

When the group finally broke up, it was only midnight, though it felt much later, and I was quiet on the walk back to the turbo-lift, and the ride to the deck and section where Data's quarters were located. In fact, I only realized we were _at_ his quarters instead of mine, when I halted outside his door.

"Zoe, is something wrong."

"Not exactly," I said. "I wasn't paying attention, and I should have asked you to take me home."

"You do not wish to have tea before we end the evening?" He seemed almost disappointed that I was ready to end our date.

"I always enjoy sharing late night tea with you," I said truthfully. "But it's been a long, and very intense day, and I'm still feeling weird about having dinner with all of you." Still, I moved fully into his space, so the door would close, and then I continued, practically on autopilot, to the couch.

"I do not understand? What was 'weird'?

"Commander Riker included me to be polite," I said. "He wasn't expecting you to accept. Or at least, he was expecting that if you _did_ accept, you would take me home first, then return."

"But you did not object."

"Actually, I did, sort of."

"Ah." He joined me on the couch. "When you said you did not wish to intrude, you were expecting me to 'get you out of there.'"

"Something like that, yes."

"Why did you not just say so?"

"I didn't know how to tell you without embarrassing you or making things more awkward. Next time I'll be clearer."

"And I will try to read your signals more effectively."

I chuckled at that. "Deal," I said softly. "Thanks for not freaking out when I stole half your drink."

"I do not 'freak out,'" he reminded me. "But no one would have prevented you from ordering a martini of your own."

The drinking age for synthehol was sixteen if it was at a restaurant, eighteen at a bar or club – at least for human-controlled establishments. "I know," I said. "But it was more fun to sneak sips of yours and see who noticed. And having a game to play made me feel less self-conscious about being there."

"Ah."

"And it kept me from touching you."

"Touching… me?"

"For the better part of a year, I've had this awareness of you… It got stronger in September when my tongue got perforated. It's different now that we're exploring intimacy in private, and I know we don't have to rush into anything… but after all these months of wanting to touch you, but knowing it would be inappropriate, and now having permission – I do have permission, right?"

"You do."

"Now, having permission. It's like… god, a typical teenager, I guess. I just… the solidity of you, the feel of your skin, the way you lace your fingers in mine. I can't get enough of it."

"Hmm." He made the sound I'd loved since I first heard it. "I believe I understand. All through dinner, I was considering the different textures and colors of your hair." His mouth quirked up at the corners. "It was distracting."

I laughed softly. "Well, I'm glad it isn't just me." I stood up, then. "I really should go home, Data. It was a good first date, really."

"I will escort you." He rose also. It was only one deck down, and a very short walk, and I was going to object, but he placed a gentle finger against my lips. "It is appropriate, is it not, for someone to walk his girlfriend home?"

I favored him with a wicked smile and kissed his finger before he took it away. "I'd like that," I said.

We held hands on the way back to the quarters I shared with my mother, and he stepped inside with me, so we could share a proper goodnight kiss. We were just moving apart when I realized what he was doing with the etudes, and I couldn't help it; I started laughing.

"Zoe, have I don't something amusing?"

"No," I said. "You're just… you're amazing, you know that?"

"You have said so many times."

"No, I mean with the etudes. They're meant to be practice pieces… ways to hone skills. But…but that's what tonight was, too. Going to a concert, staying with your friends for dinner. It's all etudes… relationship etudes."

His expression told me that I was right, that I'd figured it out. "I wished to demonstrate that the way for us to 'be' here on the _Enterprise_ is simply to do so. To interact here in the same manner that we did on your homeworld, but with slightly less physical intimacy when we are in public."

"How long do you plan to keep this up?"

"There are forty etudes in the Popper collection, Zoe, and ten in the Minsky." I glared at him and he added, "I have no specific plan for us, except to continue as we are. There are times when, of necessity, you will be required to interact with my friends and colleagues among the senior officers."

"And the… _more_ … we had yesterday morning, and today?"

"Will also continue, as I said."

"We will _eventually_ pick my audition pieces and work on those?"

"Of course, Zoe."

I laughed and hugged him. "You awesome, wonderful, fantastic man!"

His arms came around me, holding me close. He kissed the top of my head and ran a gentle hand through my hair. "I will leave you to your rest now, Zoe. Contact me when you wake."

"I'll do that," I said. "G'night, Data. Thank you for today, for all of today."

"Goodnight, Zoe."

He left, and I went back to my room and went to bed, but before I went to sleep, I asked the computer to play the entire collection of Popper etudes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief reminder: in the CRUSHverse the age of consent is 16 (for humans and humanoids with similar lifespans). Starship Conundrum is obviously a redress of Clue. (In my house we turn Clue into a role-playing game and Ms. Scarlet conceals the revolver in her bra a lot.) Data's use of the word 'meshy-ness' has to do with a conversation way back in chapter 7 of the original Crush, and Zoe's first theory tutorial. The shuttlecraft ride and the time spent at Zoe's house are all from the holiday interlude For Auld Lang Syne, as was the conversation between Data and Maestro Harris (in pieces). The entire conversation is in the first chapter of Intentions. 
> 
> David Popper (1843-1913) was a cellist and composer. His collection of cello etudes, "Op. 73, High School of Cello Playing (Hohe Schule des Violoncellospiels): Forty Études for Cello Solo," is considered one of the most important collection of technique practice pieces for cellists, and some of the pieces are performed in recitals. Aaron Minsky (aka Von Cello) is both a classical cellist and an avant garde rock cellist and is the composer of ten modern etudes for solo cello, the only recent composer whose creations have become part of standard studies and repertoire. 
> 
> "Jazz Etude" is a piece performed by the Moe Koffman Quartet. "A Night in Tunisia" was written by Dizzie Gillespie and Charlie Parker. "Autumn Leaves" is an English translation of a French song called "Les feuilles mortes," with music by Hungarian-French composer Joseph Kosma and lyrics by poet Jacques Prévert. It's become a standard of American music. (Sadly, Brent Spiner has never recorded it, but he totally should.)


	15. Enharmonics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe celebrates her 17th birthday on the Enterprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In modern musical notation and tuning, an enharmonic equivalent is a note, interval, or key signature that is equivalent to some other note, interval, or key signature but "spelled", or named differently. For example, in twelve-tone equal temperament the notes C and D are enharmonic (or enharmonically equivalent) notes. Namely, they are the same key on a keyboard, and thus they are identical in pitch, although they have different names and different roles in harmony and chord progressions.

**Enharmonics**

 

**Stardate 45048.61**

**(Thursday, 18 January 2368, 18:59 hours, ship's time)**

I was curled into my corner of Data's couch, reading a novel for my literature class with 'help' from Spot, while half-listening as Counselor Troi worked with the actual owner of said couch to try and decipher some new alien language apparently based on idiom. They'd been at it for hours, having merely been on a break when I'd arrived an hour earlier, and I'd asked twice if I should leave, but Deanna had insisted I'd find it interesting, and Data had reminded me that I'd been asking about observing his work. They weren't working on anything classified, he'd said, and he knew I enjoyed languages and literature.

After half an hour of watching them work, I decided that the real reason _Deanna_ had wanted me to stay was because a hyper-focused Data could also be incredibly exhausting. She designated me their official sounding board. I designated myself their unofficial kibitzer. For all practical purposes this meant that Deanna would, every so often, throw a word or phrase in my direction and see how I responded. I had the distinct impression they were testing me in some way, but I had no clue how… or why.

As it approached 19:00 hours, the halfway mark for quartet rehearsals when we were holding them, I began to get antsy, and I think the counselor sensed it. Actually, I _know_ she did.

"Data," she said. "I'm getting tired and punchy, and we're getting nowhere. Let's break for now. I've got dinner plans and won't be of much use without food and sleep, anyway."

"Very well, Counselor. We can reconvene in the morning and learn what the team in the anthropology lab has determined."

"Make sure you take a few hours off yourself," she advised him. "I'm sure Zoe wouldn't mind actual conversation from you."

"Hmm?" I said, having heard my name. I'd been listening of course, but I didn't really want them to know how closely.

Troi smiled tiredly at me, "I was just telling Data to take a few hours off. Make him take you to dinner outside of these quarters," she suggested. "Dinner without the entire senior staff tagging along."

I blushed faintly. "I kind of thought I was the one tagging along last week," I said.

"No, you weren't. But I can see why you felt that way. Data was lectured about when it's appropriate to say 'no' to a superior officer."

I glanced over at our android host, but he was either truly focused or studiously avoiding us. Either way, I felt bad for being the cause of a lecture. "We'd actually discussed it afterward," I said. "It wasn't his fault, and I should have been more assertive."

"Perhaps," she agreed in the tone that I'd come to learn meant we were totally going to revisit the subject in our next counseling session. "In any case, android or not, Data needs to take breaks from time to time. I leave it to you to see that he actually does. I'll see you in the morning, Data."

"Goodnight, Counselor." He issued the farewell just as the door closed behind her.

I waited a beat before glancing over at Data. "Go back to work; you _know_ you want to." My tone was a bit grumpier than I'd meant it, but there was a chance he hadn't noticed.

"I wish to complete the task I was assigned, yes," he agreed. "But Counselor Troi was correct that sometimes even I benefit from stepping away from a problem for a time."

" _You_ do?" I was understandably skeptical.

"Yes, Zoe. Just as, like you, when I return to such a task, I typically see it with 'fresh eyes.'" He rose from his work chair and came to join me on the couch. "Do you wish to have dinner in Ten-Forward, or one of the other dining lounges?"

"Truth?" I asked.

"Always."

"Eating here with you always feels cozy and domestic but going somewhere more public is probably a better idea if we're ever going to achieve any kind of normalcy. And by 'we' I mostly mean 'me,' since you don't get nervous or feel out of place."

"That is not entirely correct," he said softly. I saved my place in my book and set my padd aside. "There are times," he continued, "when I have been acutely aware of being… _other_."

"Do _I_ make you -?" I began.

"You do not," he was quick to assure. "One of the reasons I was first drawn to you was precisely _because_ you apparently accept who and what I am, and still treat me no differently than you do anyone else."

I shrugged. "People are pretty much people and should be treated the way they want to be. But I _did_ treat you differently for long time. It took me almost a year to figure out you weren't a superhero, just a person." I paused, then retracted my original dining plan. "Look, I know Counselor Troi means well, but I really look forward to our video nights. Ten-Forward will still be there tomorrow or next week – I wouldn't object to a special birthday dinner, by the way – but tonight, I'd really like to just snuggle with you on this couch and watch whatever vid you've chosen."

"It has been… a while…" Data was getting better and better at knowing when to use vague time estimates, I noticed. "…since we have watched a video here, and I do have something I would like you to view."

"Why don't we just replicate a quiche or something and eat while we watch?" I suggested. "We can enjoy some couch time and then you can go back to work with the fresh perspective you need."

"That is an equitable compromise," he agreed, getting up to work replicator magic. I used the time it took for him to order dinner to freshen up in his bathroom, and we both returned to the couch at about the same time.

"Tea, also?" I asked, noticing the pair of mugs steaming on the tray he'd set on his coffee table.

"It is later than you typically desire coffee," he pointed out. "And I have seen you pair mint tea with egg dishes before."

"Do you miss _anything_?" I asked, teasing.

"Very little," he answered. "For example, I have observed from your behavior this evening that something is troubling you. Perhaps if you tell me what it is, I can help?"

I sighed softly and looked away from him. "It's stupid," I said. "You took me off your privacy lock… and it… I don't know… hey're your quarters, and it's not like I've ever had completely free access, and when you added me in the first place it was because I was basically living with you."

"You _were_ living with me," he corrected, ever so helpfully.

"There's living with and _living with_ ," I said. "But that's not the point. You didn't bother to take me off your privacy lock when we were just friends, even after I yelled at you. You didn't take me off when I asked for a break – you even asked me to take care of Spot _during_ that break. So, why now, after our relationship has changed so much?"

"There is a reason," he said, "that I would prefer not to reveal just yet, though it will not be long before I do, and I promise it is a temporary condition. I did not realize it would trouble you."

I blushed faintly. "No, because instead of telling you – which I'd normally have done – it was easier to stew over it. I guess I'm still figuring out where our boundaries are. Anyway, they're your quarters – I know that – I just feel like they've become a home to me, too… and I'm being presumptuous again."

"No, you are not. I am glad that you see this space as a home. When I was first assigned to the _Enterprise_ it was truly just a workspace."

"When did it change?"

"It began when Geordi and I became friends," he said after a brief pause, during which he handed me a plate and silverware and wordlessly encouraged me to eat. "When I created Lal, it was truly a home – one that we shared – but when she had to be deactivated the sense of my personal space as being more than a glorified office was diminished. When you began to visit, and later when we moved your theory lessons here, it seemed like a home again."

"And now?"

"Now, I have a constant reminder that 'home' and 'family' are not fixed concepts, but designations we choose for ourselves, and when my friends – and you – say that you feel 'at home' here, it is… gratifying."

I smiled. "I didn't realize you'd given it that much thought."

"It is a concept that is becoming more relevant as our relationship evolves," he said softly, and I melted a little inside. "Just as the concept of 'family' has been growing in importance. The time I spent with your family was educational."

"I hope you mean that in a good way."

"I had not expected your father and stepmother to accept me so easily."

"Dad has a lot of faults, but he's never been a racist or a bigot," I said. "He's too well traveled and too… well, he's not actually promiscuous any _more_ , though Zane is almost as bad as my father _was._ But they accepted you because they know you're important to me. It's what you do, in families. Well, in my family, I guess."

"Your father said as much," Data confirmed.

"In the conversation you won't tell me about."

"In the conversation I will not tell you about, _yet_ ," he clarified, "and in the conversation we had the night before the trip to Surfside, as we were watching 'home movies.'"

"Home movies?" I nearly aspirated a bite of quiche. "He really did show you those?"

"Yes," he said, and then, reacting to the pointed look I gave him, he elaborated. "I heard movement in the house. Your father was awake feeding David so that Gia could sleep, and he invited me to join him in the media room."

I nodded. "Dad and I both tend to be nocturnal, and whatever else he is, he _tries_ to be a good father."

"We spoke of you, and he asked if you had shared recordings of your theatrical performances."

"I don't have recordings," I told him. "I never watch myself. Too creepy."

"That is a discussion for another time," he said. "In any event, we watched some of your father's 'home movies' of your childhood. I believe he felt guilty for not being a stable parent."

I rolled my eyes at that. "Please. He wasn't the most parental parent, and Mom was away a lot, but despite that, I think I turned out mostly okay."

"I agree. However, that is not the point."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "What _is_ the point, please?"

"Your father was unaware that I had been a parent. When I mentioned that you had asked after my daughter, he suggested I show you some of the recordings." He deftly took my empty plate out of my hands, and then handed me a still-hot mug of tea. "I began to consider how I might go about such a thing. Most of the recordings I made are somewhat clinical. However, I was able to access the ship's onboard surveillance systems and find recordings of Lal in non-clinical situations."

"Wait, there's video of everything we do on the _Enterprise_?"

"There is _not._ Only specific sections of the ship are monitored in that way. I also had a complete memory record of Lal's life in my own memory banks, as well as all her memories. During my 'down time' while you were still on vacation, I used material from all those sources to create 'home movies' to share with you."

I could have done without the detailed behind-the-scenes making-of explanation, but it didn't matter, because I'd fixated on the kernel of information he was trying to impart. "You want to show me Lal?"

"Yes."

I resettled myself, curling my legs beneath me, and moving so that I could rest my head against his shoulder. I couldn't wrap an arm around his midsection, as I was holding tea, but I could – and did - relax the arm that otherwise would have been pinned between us and let my hand fall to rest on his leg. Another time, putting my hand there could have been construed as a sexual overture, but in that context, it wasn't anything more than a simple physical connection.

"Okay," I said. "Show me."

He gave the computer the necessary commands to engage the entertainment system and begin the video.

What I saw was a combination of images – Lal's point of view of kissing Commander Riker made me laugh. Lal in school made me cringe, and I was grateful that even though I _had_ been aboard at that time, we had never crossed paths. _Would I have been as cruel as some of those other kids?_ I wondered. _Or would I have befriended her?_ I hoped with all my heart that I would have done the latter.

It was interesting, watching them together. I knew the way Data touched me - had, since the holidays, seen a couple of pictures of us together - but he was absolutely paternal with her, and I was reassured to notice the differences in the way he touched - had always touched – me. As well, I found it both moving and kind of sexy seeing him actually _being_ a father.

The last few scenes were the cruelest: Lal and Data side by side on his old couch, holding hands. Lal telling him she would feel love for both of them. Lal lying on a worktable in Data's lab as his hands moved faster than I could follow. It confused me when the last frames were blurry, but then I realized it was because I was crying.

The images faded away, and I knew Data expected me to say something, but I had no words, just feelings. I leaned forward to discard my mug, and then I shifted against him, wrapping him in my arms and hugging him with every ounce of strength I had.

His arms came around me, returning the embrace, and then, with no apparent effort, he had lifted me onto his lap again. It wasn't for a heated make-out session, though, not that night. Insteadit was about closeness. Connection.

He held me that way – we held each other, really – for several minutes before I shifted my position, moving to be able to meet his eyes. "Thank you for showing me," I said softly. "Data, she was amazing." _But why show me this now_? I wondered. _This was definitely **not** some kind of _quid pro quo _because he had seen home video of me._ "You're amazing. She was so lucky to have you as a father."

Something I'd said to my mother came echoing back to me… the same comment Zane had made. I wasn't dating a boy. Even if Data was very like an older adolescent in some ways, he had never actually been a boy. I'd known for over a year that he'd been a parent, but actually _seeing_ him in that role, interacting with his daughter made it more _real_. And very adult. And… a little bit intimidating.

I let my hands drop away from his body, and he let me go, as well. "Zoe…?" He made my name into an expression of concern.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. Sometimes it feels like we're moving too fast, and sometimes it feels like everything's just crawling, and dating you is vastly different than dating anyone else, ever, even when it's also mostly the same." I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, indulging in one of the small liberties I was now allowed. "Do you mind if we call it a night? I know you want to get back to work, even if Counselor Troi thinks you shouldn't, and I think I should go home now, put in some face time with my mother." Staying in my mother's good graces was something that was becoming increasingly important to me, and I was suddenly very tired.

"If you wish," he said, and helped me to my feet. "I would be happy to escort you."

"Naah, this wasn't a date, just a normal Thursday. And you have a language to crack and people to negotiate with and a universe to save, and all that."

I retrieved my padd and the shoes I'd kicked off almost as soon as I'd arrived while he recycled our dishes. We met just inside his door, and when we had our 'goodnight' kiss, it was sweet and tender.

"Thank you for dinner," I said. "And the home movies. I'll see you tomorrow sometime."

"It is likely that we _will_ be able to have class," he said softly.

"Okay." I turned to go, then stopped and turned back. "Hey, Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"If my mother isn't already on your team to figure out how to talk to the Children of Tamar, you should ask her to be. I mean, I know it's not my place to tell you how to do your job, but she's not just a cultural anthropologist. She's also got a special interest in folklore."

"I was not aware of that," he said. "Please tell her to expect my comm."

"I'll do that," I said. "Goodnight."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45051.31**

**(Friday, 19 January 2368, 18:42 hours, ship's time)**

We did have class the next morning, but everyone dispersed almost immediately afterward. Dana and Josh were off for a picnic in the arboretum, Rryl was having lunch with his father, and Annette said she had a scheduled comm-call with Wesley.

Data was still working on the Tamarian language, and my mother had been called to join the back-room team, which basically meant she and a bunch of other people helped with research while Data and Counselor Troi were the faces of the team, interacting with the bridge and the captain.

I didn't mind having lunch alone – sometimes it was nice to sit at the table in our quarters with a book and a sandwich and have fictional characters for company – but when all my friends begged off our planned Friday afternoon hangout time, I began to feel a little paranoid.

Fortunately, my lit professor, Edouard Benoit – 'Ed' to me and Mom, and 'Prof' to my classmates – rescued me from eating dinner alone as well. "Since Data has your mother in his clutches," he teased when he stopped by our quarters, "it's only fair that I get to steal _his_ girl for the evening."

I laughed, all pitiful feelings instantly gone. "Is it just the two of us, or will Bogart be dining as well?" I asked.

"It's a funny thing," Ed answered. "Guinan's pretty open, but she draws the line when it comes to dogs in Ten-Forward."

"Aww, poor pup. Well, maybe I could visit him, later?"

"Count on it," the dapper older man had said, and we'd gone off to the lounge to share a replicated cassoulet and some warm, crusty, rustic-style bread.

While we ate, we discussed the books I'd been reading outside of class. "I enjoyed the Hemingway you gave me last year," I said. "The way he used language was so intense – simple words but used so effectively. Is it true he used to write standing up?"

"He did when he was a journalist," Ed confirmed. "I'm fairly certain he used a desk and chair as he got older…and drunker."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Anyway, I liked what he wrote."

"I had a feeling you might," he said. "Contemporary literature is wonderful, but you shouldn't overlook the classics."

"Speaking of classics," I said. "Mom had me doing college applications over the semester break, while I was home on Centaurus…"

"Isn't it a little early for that? You're a second semester junior, aren't you?"

"I am," I confirmed. "But I have enough credits to graduate now if I really wanted to, and when you're on a starship, it takes longer to get applications in – even over subspace – and schedule interviews and stuff. We have to be ready early to accommodate lag. The galaxy isn't exactly tiny, you know?"

Ed chuckled, "I see your point." He called over the server and asked for another glass of wine. "Do you drink, Zoe?" he asked me.

_Well, there was this one time, on Centaurus, with a bonfire and a kamikaze punch bowl,_ I didn't tell him. _And then there was the martini I had before my boyfriend's brother groped me in front of a Fedora-wearing Ferengi._ "Sometimes," I said out loud. "Rarely." I also didn't mention stealing sips of Data's beer at my house over the holidays, or of his martini a week before. "'Play drunk, listen sober' doesn't really work for cello," I added, riffing on a quote often attributed to the author we'd been discussing. "Though I did notice that one of the universities I'm considering made a point of listing some of the more popular off-campus pubs."

"Which university?"

"Yale," I said. "Also on my list of options: Harvard, Princeton, Brown, Stanford, The Martian, and Osiris U."

"You weren't kidding about classics," he said. "Not the Sorbonne? Not Berkeley? Not NYU?" He listed the schools with which he had some sort of affiliation.

" _Not_ that you're biased?" I asked, matching his linguistic pattern.

" _Not_ at all," he shot back, and I grinned. "Listen, Zoe, I didn't really invite you to dinner to talk about your college plans. Not that I'm averse to giving advice, but…"

"I get it," I said. "College plans were just a red herring." I stole a phrase from an ancient video he, Mom, and I had watched one night on vacation the previous summer. "So, why are you really here?"

To his credit, he didn't evade or stammer, just met my eyes and said honestly, "I want to marry your mother."

"Shouldn't you be telling her that?"

"I have," he said. "We've been discussing it for quite some time, but we wanted to have a plan. As you know, your mother has committed to remaining on the _Enterprise_ until you've finished high school."

"I'm aware," I said. "But whether or not Mom accepts your proposal – I mean, I'm assuming you proposed? I suppose she might have."

"I haven't yet. Officially. Your mother was very concerned about the way your father handled things with Gia."

"Wait, there was handling? I don't remember handling. I remember finding out my father had a new girlfriend in front of all my friends."

"That was my point. Your mother made it clear to me that you were to be included from the start."

"Like a threesome?" I teased. " _Kinky_."

"Zoe, are you trying to embarrass me?" he seemed truly perturbed.

I sat up straighter in my chair. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just playing with you a little. Consider it a tolerance test. Or something."

"Or something?"

I delayed my answer as two orders of crème brûlée were delivered to our table, with tiny mugs of espresso. Well, mine was actually a cortado, but whatever.

"So, young man," I began while I cracked the caramelized sugar crust of my dessert, "What _are_ your intentions toward my mother?" I used an imperious tone as I asked the question.

"I'd like to marry her, Zoe. I'd like to ensure that you approve, that you support her – and me – and that you'll feel part of the family."

I dropped the imperious tone. "Well…" I began. "Do you mind answering a few questions?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really, no."

"Fire away, Ms. Harris."

"Will you make her happy?" I asked.

"I will do my best."

"Are you prepared to deal with the fact that Starfleet careers often mean long separations?"

"I believe so, though I should add that your mother will be requesting a transfer to a position on Earth."

I hadn't known that, but it made sense. I'd been getting the impression that my mother was ready for a slightly more sedate life. Or at least a more stationary one.

"When I was six, would you have bought me a pony?"

"Absolutely," he said, smiling.

"Good answer," I grinned back. "One more thing?" He nodded, and I continued. "Don't make me sing at the wedding without asking me first. My father 'volunteered' me for his, and I really wasn't happy about it."

"I think we have a bargain," Ed laughed. "Let's toast on it."

He was out of wine, and I'd read that it was bad luck to toast with water, so we each scooped a spoonful of crème brûlée and raised them in tribute. Or something.

We finished our dessert with more casual chatter, and then we went to hang out with Bogart for a while. The dog seemed unusually interested in me, but I quickly realized, "It's because I smell like cat."

"Data's cat?"

"Spot thinks my hair is an endless supply of macramé yarn," I explained. "She's going to pull it all out, one piece at a time."

Ed laughed. "I doubt that. But it's another reason I prefer dogs."

"Don't tell Data," I said, "but, so do I."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45053.29**

**(Saturday, 20 January 2368, 12:05 hours, ship's time)**

If I'd been mildly suspicious about all my friends bailing on me the day before, I was absolutely suspicious when Data contacted me at eight on Saturday morning to apologetically cancel our music session because of a 'personal project,' about which he declined to share the details

I knew it would be useless to attempt to wheedle information from him, just as I knew he was telling me the truth, so I did what any self-respecting about-to-be-seventeen-year-old would do: I went back to bed for a serious sleeping-in session.

Around noon, my mother came into my room and woke me up. "Hey, birthday girl," she greeted.

"You of all people should remember that my birthday isn't actually until tomorrow," I said.

"Oh, I know," she answered. "I'm actually here on a mission, of sorts. Mind if I sit down?"

I sat up in my bed and scooted back against the pillows. "Go for it."

She sat down and patted my knee through the covers. "Zoificus, you're not a little girl anymore."

"Not to burst your bubble, Mom, but…kinda knew that." Something in her expression softened my auto-snark. "Sorry…what's this about, really?"

"Well, first, Data asked me to make sure that you were willing and ready to go on a date with him at eight tonight."

"I had a feeling he was up to something," I grinned. "Did he happen to mention any kind of dress code?"

"He said something about a red dress you bought at a boutique in Beach Haven?"

"Oh… okay, yeah, I brought that back to the ship with me."

"There's more."

"What, I take him on one shopping trip and he wants to decide which shoes I wear, too?" I was teasing, mostly.

"No. The 'more' isn't from him. It's from me."

"Well, I know a pony isn't in the offing."

"No, kiddo, it's not," Mom agreed, smiling. Too soon, her expression faded into something sober. "Watching you and Data since you've been home has been an educational experience, Zoe. You're so connected to each other… I worry you're moving too fast, too soon."

It crossed my mind to tell her that sometimes I felt that way too, at the same time I felt that things weren't moving fast _enough_ , but I stayed silent and let her continue.

"When I spoke to Data last summer, your relationship was nothing like it is now, was it?"

"We were good friends," I said. "And I was crushing on him, but that's it. Why?"

"Because I extracted a promise from him I had no right to ask for."

"Yeah, you did," I agreed. "I yelled at you about it already. And… and Data and I had quite an intense conversation about it, as well."

"When Data asked me to help him with his… project… today, we talked again."

"So, how much more of my life did you two plan without asking first?"

"Only the part where your curfew is two AM on school nights," my mother said softly. "Fridays and Saturdays, as long as I know where you are, you're own your own recognizance." She took a breath and added, "I still think you should wait." She put up a hand, stopping me from interrupting. "Sweetie, I know you're not a virgin, but I also know that this relationship is different. You don't have to rush anything."

"Data and I have talked about it, Mom… or started to. I know we're going to be intimate in that way eventually. I also know _neither_ of us is really ready. He may be older, but when it comes to relationships, he's kind of…" I trailed off. It really wasn't appropriate for me to say more. Instead, I paused a moment before asking, "Are you seriously telling me that if I'm with Data having tea, and it gets late, I'm allowed to crash there, if he invites me?"

"Something like that."

"Mom, is it weird if I talk to you about my relationship with him? I mean… he's sort of your boss, but there are things I can't talk about with my friends."

"Anything in particular?" I saw concern in her eyes.

"He showed me… he basically made home movies of his daughter for me to see."

"You mean Lal?"

I nodded. "Did you ever meet her?"

"Once, briefly. She seemed lovely. I think you would have liked her."

"I hope so. Some of the video he had was… the kids here weren't very nice to her."

"Kids can be cruel," Mom agreed. "But you, even at your snarkiest, you're not cruel."

"Well, not usually," I allowed. "Anyway, seeing her… seeing _him_ actually being a parent… it was sweet, and it was – sorry, Mom – a little sexy, but it was also overwhelming. I mean, so many people – me included, sometimes – treat him like he's not the officer – the _man_ – he really is. And then... he'll do this thing that reminds me how much _more_ he is than I'll ever be."

"Than any of us will," she said softly. "You have a lot to navigate, both of you, in this relationship."

"I know this," I said. "This, I know."

"You're not obligated to stay with him, Zoe. If it's too much, or if you feel like you're in over your head…"

I shook my head. "It's too late for that, Mom. We're… we're too connected. He told me I was basically a part of his programming, and he's become part of me." She gave me a look, and I added, "Believe me, I know how hokey that sounds." Then I took a breath and voiced the words to her that I hadn't yet shared with the man in question. "I love him, Mom. I mean, I'm _in_ love with him, but also…  I just...love him."

"Have you told him that?"

"Not yet." I held up a hand, to stop _her_ from interrupting. "You don't have to tell me that he can't say it back. I already know this. But he's already told me in… well… Data-speak, I guess – android-ese? – whatever. He's already made it very clear..." I faltered again, and finally decided on a different tack. "I know what I mean to him. Sometimes the little things scare me a little, but the big picture stuff? It never does."

My mother was silent for a long time. "Is it wrong that I sometimes wish you were still young enough to be happy with dolls and horses?"

"I never liked dolls," I reminded her. "Although, the next time I see a Starfleet Commander action figure, I'm totally buying it and painting it gold, and giving it to Data as a joke."

"Zoe…"

"Sorry. And thanks for listening," I said. "I have the best mother ever." I leaned forward and hugged her.

She hugged me back, laughing softly. "I'm pretty sure I got the better end of the deal, even so."

She stayed a few more minutes, and then patted my knee again and left. "Eight o'clock," she reminded me. "Twenty-hundred hours."

"I know," I said. "I wouldn't miss it – whatever it is – for all the coffee in the galaxy." I hunkered back under the covers, though, to doze a little longer, imagining a night in Data's quarters like the night we'd shared after my brother was born, and wishing for the day when heated kisses didn't have to stop.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45054.20**

**(Saturday, 20 January 2368, 20:07 hours, ship's time)**

"Surprise!"

"Happy Birthday!"

The lights in holodeck two came up to reveal a reproduction of my favorite café, the Red Sands Coffee in Beach Haven. Standing around the room were Mom and Ed, and all my friends – as well as some of the officers I'd gotten to know – Geordi, Reg, and Counselor Troi prominent among them.

"Oh, god! This is awesome!" I turned to my escort, who had shown up at my door just before eight wearing another of the outfits we'd picked out together, this time a deep blue – almost midnight - shirt and soft black trousers. "This?" I asked him. "This was your 'personal project,' Data?"

"Yes," he said as I hugged him. "Happy birthday, Zoe." His arms came around me, meeting my embrace.

"Best boyfriend ever," I whispered softly, "Promise me we'll have some time alone, though, later?"

He surprised me by pressing a light kiss to my lips. "Of course."

"Data?" I asked my tone still soft. "I thought you said…"

"This is a private party," he reminded me, "and I am not in uniform." His voice was also soft. "Our guests are waiting."

" _Our_ guests?" I asked wryly.

"Yes. I am hosting this party, but it is _for_ you. Therefore, the guests are…ours."

I laughed and stepped away from him. "Did you program a decent barista? I haven't had caffeine yet today?"

It turned out that not only had Data programmed a barista who could pull shots and froth milk with the best of them, but the food menu was just as good as the drinks being created. With my friends' input, he had also arranged for a selection of board games and for acoustic guitar versions of some of my favorite music to be playing in the background. It was a low-key party, but then, seventeen is a low-key birthday, and having several hours just to hang out with my friends was worth more than anything louder or noisier could ever have been.

Two hours later, I was in the process of introducing Reg and Geordi to _Objects and Obfuscation_ , and half-listening while Deanna and Ed played _Starship Conundrum_ at the next table, along with Annette and Dana, when the lights began to gently dim.

"Ah!" I heard Data's voice from the table on the other side of mine, where he, Josh, Rryl, and my mother were playing _Infinite Fluxx_. "It is time for the cake and presents."

We all pitched in, pushing two of the larger tables together, and re-arranging the chairs around it. The cake appeared, borne by two holo-baristas, but there were only three candles on it. I glanced at Data, "Are we counting my age in some weird numbering system I'm not aware of?"

"We are not," he said. "The candles are symbolic, representative of the past, the present, and the future."

"You came up with that?"

My answer came in the form of a brief nod, and then people started singing.

The cake, it should be noted, was dark chocolate mousse with orange filling.

The presents were pretty much what I expected. Music and games from the boys, earrings and a really adorable top from Annette, and art from Dana, whose watercolors were gallery-worthy after her summer of art and design intensives. Counselor Troi gave me perfume and a collection of meditation techniques, Lt. Barclay had given me an upgrade to the night surfing program – bigger waves and options for different oceans – and Geordi gave me six hours in the basic shuttle simulator.

"What, flitter lessons weren't scary enough for you?" I teased.

"You don't have to be in Starfleet to have a shuttle license," he responded in a friendly-but-serious tone. "And I heard a rumor you might be gallivanting around the universe for your own reasons fairly soon. Can't hurt to pick up a new skill."

" _You_ just want me to invite you the farm to meet Bertha," I accused.

"Who is Bertha?" Data asked.

"I'll explain later," I promised him. To Geordi I said, "Thank you. Can we maybe not take almost a year this time?"

His laughter was all the answer I needed.

Ed gave me another data solid of classic literature while Mom gave me a messenger bag with a vintage coffee poster printed on it. "I know you might not need it on the _Enterprise_ ," she told me, "but it felt like you, and you _will_ need it when you're at Idyllwild this summer."

"I can go?" I asked. "Really? You're letting me take the contract?"

"We still need to finalize the emancipation agreement – and no, it won't affect you finishing school here – but yes, you can go."

I got up and hugged her, but then I turned back to Data. Android or not, there was something, some subtle _thing_ in his eyes, in his face, that wasn't entirely joyful. I sat back down, slipped my hand into his, and squeezed. He met my eyes, squeezed my hand back, gently, and handed me a package with his other hand.

The box was of the size and shape that usually meant jewelry, but I was pretty sure it wasn't. At least, I hoped it wasn't. I didn't want Data giving me jewelry in public, not yet. I opened it, and was immediately relieved to find that it wasn't anything embarrassing. Instead, it was a card promising a seventeen-lesson course in social dancing. There was also a data solid.

"Dance lessons?"

"Not every partner will be kind enough to count for you," he teased.

"Thank you," I said. "What's on the solid?"

"The program for this café, should you wish to use it again."

The party devolved into conversation, after that, and finally broke up completely around midnight. Data and I packed all my gifts into the messenger bag. My friends all hugged me as they left, and Mom and Ed both did as well, the former whispering, "Brunch tomorrow, Ten-Forward, eleven-thirty. Look in that bag when you get to…" She glanced in Data's direction, and I nodded.

Counselor Troi hugged me as well, explaining that Commander Riker had volunteered to command the bridge so that Data could host the party for me. "Tell him I said thank you," I told her. "And bring him some cake."

"He'll appreciate that," she said.

"Can we talk on Monday or Tuesday?"

"I'll send a message with my schedule," she promised. "Happy birthday, Zoe. It's good to see you happy."

I grinned at her. "Yeah, I am."

Finally, it was just Data and me, and I walked over to where he was still gathering gifts and packing them. I hugged him from behind, and then we moved to embrace more properly. "Thank you," I said. "For the party, for everything."

"You are welcome, Zoe."

"Can I do anything, or are you ready to go?"

"I must recycle the leftover cake," he said.

"Isn't there a way we could take it home? My family has this tradition of eating leftover cake for breakfast the day after someone's birthday."

"That does not seem like a healthy practice."

"Oh, it's not. But it's a delicious one."

He replicated a portable 'fresher unit. "I will carry the cake," he said, "if you will carry your bag."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45054.82**

**(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 01:32 hours, ship's time)**

Spot didn't deign to leave the couch when we returned to Data's quarters, but she did look up for a few seconds, as if to say, "Oh, it's _them._ "

Data placed the cake on his table, and I moved toward the couch so I could kick off the heels I'd chosen to wear, freezing as I realized his easel was out, and that there was a painting resting on it., covered with a cloth. "Am I allowed to peek at what you're working on?" I asked.

"It is the rest of your present," he said. "And yes, you may look, there is no 'peeking' necessary."

I lifted away the cloth and came face to face with…us. Well images of us. He was standing behind me in the picture, and had his arm wrapped around my waist. We were both in civilian clothes – party clothes – and the window behind us looked familiar. "Data… this is from New Year's Eve."

"Yes," he said.

"You didn't paint this from memory, did you?"

"I did not."

"Then how…?"

"One of the photographers documenting the party took the picture and your father sent it to me. I thought you would appreciate it more… this way."

"You painted us," I said, marveling. I turned the easel to face the couch, and went to sit, but continued to stare at the picture. "You painted _us._ "

"Yes, Zoe." He came to join me, but his next words were almost hesitant. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" I pulled my attention from Data's artwork and focused on Data himself. "I love it. I love _you_." His eyes widened, and mine felt like they were saucers. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have said –"

"Do not apologize," he said softly, cutting me off. "Do not ever apologize for what you feel."

"I wasn't going to tell you…"

"Because you knew you would not hear the same words in reply?" His question was asked in a gentle tone, and he reached for me, pulling slightly so I would move into the curve of his body. "If I could feel love, Zoe, do you not believe I would feel it for you?"

"I _know_ you would," I said.

"I have suspected that you felt this way since before the holidays," he said, making the time vague again. But then he specified, "I have wondered for four weeks, three days, and twenty-point-six-seven hours why you did not tell me. I decided that you were simply not yet ready."

"Partly," I said softly, half-noticing that he was stroking light fingers up and down my bare arm. "But partly, it was because those words are hard enough to say when you know you'll hear them back. So, I was protecting myself. And partly," I admitted, "it's because whenever I respond to something emotionally, or I've turned to you for support you act as though you're somehow…  lacking… because you don't – can't – respond in kind. And I didn't want to be the cause of that perception, Data, because I don't feel a lack of anything in our relationship."

"Zoe." He breathed my name in a tone that was laced with something like wonder, and he kissed the top of my head. "I have given much consideration to the way I would answer if you gave me those words. I do not have a pithy response to offer, nor can I give you a three-word reply. Instead, I will tell you this: I experience a sense of loss when you are absent from my presence, and a keener one when you are not aboard the _Enterprise_. Even though I can estimate to the nanosecond when you are likely to arrive at my door, I count the moments until you are actually here."

I felt my breath hitch in response to his words and his fingers on my skin. "Data…"

"I am not finished," he said. Then he continued his litany. "I devote time to you even when that time would be more productive if devoted to the ship. I consider you, and your thoughts, even when your input should be irrelevant to my task or opinion. I allow you to distract me from my duties. You make me less efficient, but I do not accept the logic that would remove you from my presence or alter our relationship. You – your presence in my life and the relationship we have – have become necessary to my ability to function."

"Oh, Data…" Tears were streaming down my face, I was pretty sure my mascara was running, and I didn't care.

"I have made you cry," he observed quietly. "There is a seventy-three percent chance that you will run from me, because I have made you cry." His voice got even softer. "Please do not."

"Happy tears," I managed to say. "These are _happy_ tears, Data. No more running from you."

In movies and holo-vids, whenever couples declare their love, they end up having sex. The truth is that sex was the furthest thing from my mind that night. It was enough just to sit with Data's arms around me, to lean my head against his shoulder, to just _be_ with him.

Emotional revelations are kind of exhausting, though, especially when you're processing them on only sugar and caffeine, so it wasn't long before I began drifting to sleep. He must have noticed the change in my breathing, or felt my muscles relax, because his voice calling my name woke me. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so tired."

"It has been an eventful evening," he said, still speaking softly. "My bed is yours if you wish to stay."

"I'd like that," I said. "I need to wash my face though."

"You know where everything is," he reminded me. "Go prepare for bed."

I left my shoes on the living room floor and padded through his bedroom to the bathroom, where I washed my face and rinsed my mouth out. I started to unzip my dress, but then I realized that I hadn't brought anything resembling sleepwear. I opened the door, "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"Do you have a t-shirt or pajama top I can borrow? I don't want to sleep in this dress, and… I'm not quite ready for total nudity with you." Fatigue always took away my filter.

He didn't seem at all phased by what I'd said. "I have both. Which would you prefer?"

"That depends, are you sharing the bed with me?" I knew he didn't need sleep. I had a feeling he wouldn't mind working in bed that night.

"If I am welcome."

"It's _your_ bed," I reminded him. "Of course, you're welcome."

He came to the door, and I saw that he was already wearing the pajamas he'd worn at my house on Centaurus. Well, he was wearing the bottoms. His chest was bare, and I couldn't help staring at the expanse of smooth, sculptured gold. He offered me the top. "My studies of typical human relationships have shown me that many couples 'share' their nightwear," he said.

I took the soft, blue, cotton shirt from him, retreated to the bathroom, and changed clothing, leaving my dress hanging on the towel bar. The difference in our heights meant that his pajama top was long enough that it wasn't entirely scandalous worn over just panties.

Data already had the bed turned down when I emerged, and a glass of water was waiting on the side I'd slept on the last time we'd shared a bed. On his side, I noticed, were a stack of padds and a length of fiber-optic cable.

I met him near the foot of the bed, and I couldn't help it. I reached out and put my hands flat against his bare skin, and then stretched up to kiss him. Not the heated kisses we'd been sharing – I was way too tired for that – but a proper goodnight kiss nevertheless.

He didn't extinguish the lights until we were both in the bed, me settled against his chest. "You can work if you need to," I said. "It won't bother me."

"Not yet," he said. "Computer, reduce lights by ninety percent."

I closed my eyes, and just enjoyed being close to him, feeling the soft, steady thrum of his pulse. "G'night, Data," I murmured, drifting off.

"Happy birthday… my Zoe." His words were the last thing I was conscious of for several hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The games referenced in the chapter have already been included in notes on other chapters, except Infinite Fluxx, which is basically every version of Fluxx over 4 centuries…combined. The 'red herring' line that Zoe uses in her conversation with Ed is, of course, a riff on the movie Clue. The use of only three candles on cakes for non-landmark birthdays after the age of fifteen is my own family tradition. Ditto leftover cake for breakfast. Spans the episode "Darmok." Special thanks to saya4haji at ffnet for help with Data's response at the end.


	16. Fermata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data's relationship with Zoe continues to deepen; a trip is made to plant a colony, and an old 'friend' shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fermata [ferˈmaːta] (also known as a hold, pause, colloquially a birdseye or cyclops eye, or as a grand pause when placed on a note or a rest) is a symbol of musical notation indicating that the note should be prolonged beyond its normal duration or note value would indicate.

**Fermata**

 

**Stardate 45055.51**

**(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 07:36 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up in near darkness in an unfamiliar bed, but the room was anything but unfamiliar, and neither was the man who was currently pressed up against my back. I'd fallen asleep with my head on his bare shoulder, and now he was spooning me. I smiled into the dimly lit room, and then breathed his name. "Data…?"

"I did not mean to wake you," he said keeping his voice low, perhaps in deference to the lack of illumination. "If I am too close to you, or you are uncomfortable in this position, I will –"

"You're not," I said, cutting him off. "And…I'm not. This is nice." I was pleasantly muzzy, in that state where I could happily have gone back to sleep, or equally happily stayed awake. Well, maybe not entirely equally. "We could make it nicer," I said softly.

The innuendo was not lost on him. His hand twitched, grazing the underside of my breast through the cloth of the pajama top I'd borrowed from him, but he said. "While sexual intimacy with you is an appealing prospect, I do not believe either of us is quite…ready." I felt him hesitate for the briefest of moments. "At least, I am not."

I took a moment to analyze my own needs and wants and realized I still wasn't as ready as I'd thought I was. "No," I said. "I guess you're right…but…"

"What is it, Zoe? You know you can ask me anything."

"Alright," I said softly. "Lift your arm for a minute, this conversation should be face to face."

He did so, and I turned over so that I was facing him, smiling when he lowered his arm, resting his hand against my hip. In the low light, I could barely make out his features, but I found his head unerringly, stretched to kiss him, and then mussed his hair as I resettled myself.

"Computer, increase illumination by fifteen percent." The lights came slightly up. "You were going to ask a question," he prompted me.

"There are a lot of reasons why I'm not quite ready for sex with you. It's too much, too soon, and I worry about our being together reflecting badly on you. But also," I took a breath. "This is going to sound utterly ridiculous, because I'm seventeen and no one finds the love of her life when she's seventeen…not in our world, anyway…but…you're not one-night-stand-guy, and you're not fling-guy. You're long-term-relationship-guy. Maybe even forever-guy. And I don't want to mess this – mess _us_ – up."

"I do not wish to 'mess us up' either," he said softly. "But what is your question?"

"Why aren't _you_ ready? Is it something I'm doing wrong, or…something else?"

His hand left my hip to tangle in my hair, and we shared another kiss before he answered. "You are doing nothing wrong, Zoe. It is…are you certain you wish to have this conversation in our bed?"

I wasn't sure if he could see my eyebrows go up, but I knew he'd hear my inflection. " _Our_ bed?"

"Is it not?" His tone was completely guileless. "Zoe, you are the only person who slept in my old bed, and the only woman I foresee sharing this one. If you wish to move this conversation to the couch, or the table, I will understand."

I thought about moving and discarded the idea. "I'm comfortable here," I said. "Some things are easier to talk about when you're cuddled in the dark with the person you love, and honestly, the last thing I want right now is distance from you, even if we're talking less than a meter."

"Very well," he said. "Do you recall our conversation about Tasha Yar?"

"I remember. Is this the part where you tell me I'm competing with a ghost?"

"No, Zoe. It is 'the part' where I tell you that the morning after our…encounter…she told me that 'it never happened' and that we would never speak of it again."

"Oh, Data…" I pressed my hand to his chest. "I hope you know I would _never_ do that."

"I do know that you would never deny or negate anything we experience together, but you did run from me in tears after we shared kisses, and that is not a scenario I care to repeat."

"No," I agreed. "Me either. If it helps at all, I was never running from you; I was running from me. From feelings I didn't think I was supposed to feel, from the thought that I'd pushed you too far…and the second time…I was hurt and angry and didn't know how to handle it, but it was…it was never you."

"Last night when I told you not to apologize for what you feel, I meant emotions like anger, as well. While I cannot experience anger, I have had practice in 'talking people down' from it. You must learn to be angry with me without fleeing from my presence, and to let me help you through it."

I used his phrase, from when he left me on New Year's Day: "I promise to try." We were both quiet for a moment, and then a thought struck me, and I asked, "Data…was Tasha your first?"

"No," he answered, and his hand went to my hip again, as if holding me would soften what he was about to say. "

"Tasha was my friend, and she was special to me because our…encounter…while brief, was the first time I experienced sexual intimacy with someone who wanted me for _me_ , and not just to find out what it would be like to…." He trailed off, and I had the impression he was searching his memory for a specific quote. "…to 'fuck a robot.'"

The coarse language – especially jarring, coming from him – and the implication that he'd been used that way made me gasp. "Data, that's awful."

"It was not 'all bad,'" he said. "While I learned that I am capable of sexual function, I also learned that even scientific curiosity does not outweigh my need to be treated as a person."

"You _are_ a person," I grumbled. "And anyone who doesn't think so…"

He interrupted me. "You do not have to defend me, Zoe, though I appreciate the sentiment." He hesitated for over a second, before he said softly, "You are not the only one of us who wishes for a future together."

"What?" I nearly hissed the word.

"You have asked what your father and I talked about. You surmised that he asked about my intentions toward you, and you were not mistaken. I told him that I _believed_ our association may be permanent, but that planning beyond the next few weeks would be premature. I told him that for now, I wish to simply be with you, to explore the relationship we already have, and to deepen the connection we have already established."

"You said that to my father and he didn't threaten to take you apart and sink the pieces into the eleven seas of Centaurus?" I was boggling a little. More than a little.

"He did not. He merely reminded me that you were young, but that he believed – as I do – that you know your own mind."

I lifted my hand from his chest to run my fingers through his hair but when I moved to kiss him, a yawn took over. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed.

"Do not be, it is only six point three minutes after eight hundred hours. We are not due at brunch until eleven-thirty hours. Go back to sleep; I will wake you in time to get ready."

"You're coming to brunch?"

"Your mother invited me specifically."

"That was nice of her; should we bring the leftover cake?" I yawned again. "I need to turn over."

He lifted his arm again and I turned onto my other side. I expected him to roll back the other way, continue working on whatever had kept him busy while I'd been sleeping before, but his arm came around me again. "Computer, reduce illumination to previous level." The lights dimmed down to the near-darkness I'd awakened to.

"I love you, Data," I told him.

I wasn't expecting a response, especially after the paragraphs he'd given me the night before, but he surprised me again. "I am devoted to you, Zoe."

I smiled into the dark room and covered his hand – the one resting against me – with my own. I twined my fingers through his, my palm to the back of his hand, and lifted slightly, guiding his hand to my breast. His breathing altered slightly, but he didn't object, and I was silent for more than a minute, hovering in that sweet place on the edge of sleep.

Something he'd said earlier came echoing back to me. "Appealing, really?"

"Appealing," he said. "Really. Go to sleep."

I happily complied.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45055.84**

**(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 10:30 hours, ship's time)**

Data woke me with a kiss and a cup of coffee. "It is ten-thirty, Zoe. If you wish to have a 'proper' shower, you must wake up now."

"Are you always going to wake me up this way?" I asked, only half-teasing. "Because I could _so_ get used to this."

"Only on mornings when you wake up here," he said, perfectly seriously. "I believe your mother would object to personalized coffee service in your bedroom."

I stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Gold star for the frowsy guy," I said noting his mussed (from my fingers as much as the pillows) hair and rumpled pajama bottoms, and then noticing his bare feet and the scattering of hair peeking up from his waistband – like his eyebrows it was just a couple of shades off from his skin - and forming a faint line up to his navel. "Frowsy and all kinds of sexy," I said. "Remind me again why we're waiting?"

"I am going to assume that was a rhetorical question," he responded. "In any case, even if we were _not_ waiting to experience mutual sexual gratification, we would be late for brunch with your mother and Professor Benoit."

"Ed," I corrected, interrupting him.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not your professor, and he's likely to be my stepfather someday soon. That makes the two of you practically family. I had the impression you two had become friends, of a sort. You should call him Ed. I mean, _I_ do, even when I'm sitting in his class."

"You consider Professor – Ed – to be family?"

"No, I consider _you_ to be family. I consider Ed to be…family-adjacent" I got out of the bed. "Am I allowed to use water for my shower?"

"Of course, Zoe."

I headed to the bathroom bringing my half-finished coffee with me. Just before the door closed behind me, I tossed Data's pajama top at him. "Thanks for this," I said, favoring him with a saucy grin.

The look on his face was one more birthday present for me.

**(=A=)**

I was half-expecting Ed to propose to my mother at brunch, but I realized he'd never do such a thing on my birthday. Instead, the four of us shared a cozy meal, and talked about literature. Ed suggested that I give Sherlock Holmes another chance, teasing me with information about his creator – Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle – and his love of the occult.

"He believed in fairies, Zoe, and used to hold séances. That should appeal to your dark side."

"I'd tell you I don't believe in fairies, but I'm pretty sure if I did you'd start quoting _Peter Pan_ at me," I told him. "But séances are cool. What did he use? Medium? Crystal ball? Ouija board?"

"Both," Ed said. "Or, all, I suppose. At different times. But how do _you_ know about Ouija boards."

"Ouija board…" Data was repeating the phrase as if he were searching for something to connect it with. "Ah. Talking board, spirit board, witch board. I can understand why it is something Zoe would find interesting. She 'likes' the dark."

"You know me too well," I teased lightly. "As to how I know…Gran had one. When my cousins and I would stay at the farm, she'd declare no-tech days from time to time. Actually, there was one month when she got so fed up with all of us glued to padds and vids and games that she instituted Rolling for Technology."

"Rolling for Technology?" Data repeated, making my capitalization audible. "Please elaborate."

"She took a ten-sided dice – die? –" I glanced at him for confirmation. "Die. And every morning we'd gather around the kitchen table and roll it. High numbers allowed us to have more recent technology. Low numbers set our allowable tech level at that of different periods in time. We rolled a 'one' once and were terrified she'd refuse to let us use indoor plumbing – there's an outhouse on the farm, but it's mostly there as a joke. She didn't disallow it, but we had to make all our meals outside on the grill that day, and we only used the storm lanterns for illumination after dark."

"I remember you complaining about that visit," my mother said, her gushy mom-look evident on her face. "You got mad when I supported the idea."

"Yeah, at first, but then we all started liking it. The second time we got an extremely low-tech roll, it was a stormy day, so we lit a fire to ward off the dampness and Gran dragged her Ouija board out of the attic. She told us this great story about how she had a friend who was from a race of Listeners, and they'd imbued the board with the ability to listen to the spirit world."

"There are such races," Data said. "Guinan's people are known as Listeners. However, I do not believe she or any of her kind are able to hear messages from the deceased or imbue a painted board with the ability to communicate with ghosts or spirits." His tone implied that he was perplexed. Was it wrong that I thought he was adorable when something perplexed him?

"No, and none of us really believed it either; it's just fun to pretend," I explained. "It's why I like horror, remember? It's _fun_ to be scared, when you know it's not real." I waited a beat. "Besides, the Parker Brother's name and logo are right on the bottom of the board. Kinda takes the magic away when you notice that. Besides we were kids. We asked the board things like 'Will I marry the celebrity I'm crushing on?'"

Mom and Ed both chuckled. Data gave me a look that clearly meant he'd didn't quite understand what was funny but wasn't going to ask just then.

Guinan stopped by our table to see how we were doing and wish me a happy birthday. "I'm sorry I was unable to attend your party," she said, and then she looked at me very sharply as if she was hearing a message from someone or something beyond our comprehension. All she added was, "Zoe, Data, it's good to see you two together."

Somehow, I think we all knew she wasn't talking about proximity.

Data opened his mouth, but I don't know what he would have replied, because his comm-badge chirped, and he tapped it. "Data here."

"Mr. Data, I'm sorry to intrude on your personal time, but the transport carrying the first wave of the Melona colonists is due to rendezvous, and your assistance would be appreciated." The words came in the captain's polite-but-crisp inflection.

"Acknowledged, sir," Data answered. "I am on my way." He rose from the table and thanked Mom for including him in the meal. I wasn't expecting him to kiss me – he was in uniform and we were in public, but he bent to brush a light kiss across my lips anyway, followed by the whispered word, "Etudes." Having a sort of in-joke with him helped me feel less like the entire lounge was watching us, because the reality was…no one was paying much attention at all.

"Zoe, I will be on duty for the rest of the day. Feel free to collect your belongings at your convenience. If you do not mind checking Spot's water, I would appreciate it."

"I don't mind," I said, understanding the implication. I was back on his privacy lock.

**(=A=)**

Counselor Troi caught up with me as I was leaving Ten-Forward. Mom and Ed were lingering over one more cup of coffee, and I wanted to get my birthday gifts from Data's quarters and change into something other than what I was wearing – the shirt he'd been wearing at my party, belted over my dress.

"Interesting outfit," she observed, her voice tinged with humor.

"Mmm, it's a Zata original," I quipped. "Just picked it from this year's look book."

"'Zata?'" she asked laughing. "I like that. How much shopping did you two do while he was on Centaurus?"

"Not that much, really. A few shirts, a couple of pairs of pants, sandals - he tried to wear them with socks, at first. I made him skip the board shorts; it wasn't a good look for him. But about the outfit. I hadn't planned to spend the night, and while my mother had tucked clean underwear, makeup and a hair brush into the messenger bag she gave me, it didn't occur to her that actual clothes would have been useful."

"So, you improvised. You wear his shirt well."

"Not as well as he did," I teased. She responded with a grin and a slight nod.

The turbo-lift came and we both entered it. "Deck eight," she instructed. "Zoe…?"

"Same," I said. "I have to retrieve all my birthday gifts. And the leftover cake."

"You know," she said, "if you're willing to share the cake, we could talk today instead of scheduling something for tomorrow or Tuesday."

I grinned, "You'll do anything for chocolate, won't you?"

"Not quite," she said. "It's up to you, of course. If you have somewhere to be…?"

"My only definite plan is meeting Ray for swimming at five, but I really want to get home and change as soon as I can."

"Ray?"

"Ensign Barnett. Wesley tried to set us up the day I first met Lore, right after T'vek left the ship, but the timing was bad, and then after that, he sort of adopted me as his little sister. I needed a physical education credit for school, he's a certified swimming instructor, and being a better swimmer and diver only makes me a better surfer."

"You love the water," she observed.

"My parents used to say I was half-mermaid," I told her, echoing what my father had told Data.

Troi laughed at that. "I can just imagine."

"Would it be okay if we didn't talk today?" I asked. "I'm having a really good day and I don't want to analyze it to death." I entered Data's quarters, and she followed me in, pausing to look at the painting of him and me. "That was the rest of my birthday present," I said.

"It's lovely."

"He actually asked me if I liked it," I said, gathering my things back into the messenger bag. "I told him I loved it, and loved him, and he said…"

"He said he didn't love you back?" Troi guessed. She went to sit on his couch and patted the cushion next to me. An invitation.

Suddenly, I _did_ want to talk, after all. I replicated plates and silverware, cut two pieces of cake, and joined her on the couch. "Here," I passed her one of the plates. "Actually, Data asked me if I believed that he would feel love for me, if he could."

"Do you?"

"I _know_ he would." I said. "He went on with a litany of things –." I repeated the words he'd given me. After, all, when an android gives you a paragraph that is basically telling you he loves you without saying those three words, you tend to remember them.

"That sounds like a rather intense conversation."

"Yeah, but it was good intense, just like this morning in bed."

"You and Data are …"

I shook my head. "Not yet. He's not ready to go there yet, and neither am I. He just stayed in the bed and worked on padds or through a link to the computer, while I slept. It wasn't the first time we'd shared a bed that way," I said, and I went on, backtracking all the way to the shuttle trip to Centaurus a month before, and everything that had changed since then.

"And then I told him he wasn't the kind of guy you have a fling with –." She chuckled, and I asked her, "What?"

"Nothing, Zoe, it's just…most people would never refer to Data as a 'guy.'"

I shrugged. "It was early, and it was dark, and…he can be more of a guy than you know, sometimes. Anyway, I said he was long-term relationship material. I called him forever guy. And he said he wished for a future together, too. Not anything permanent, any time soon, obviously. Just…he's thought about me…about us…that way."

"And how do you feel about that?"

I took half a minute to formulate my reply. "I think I'm incredibly lucky to have someone like Data so devoted to me. I feel…cherished and special and flattered and…and loved. But I also feel that he's right and committing to something years away is premature. We should focus on here and now and explore what we already are to each other."

The counselor stared at me for a long moment, as if reading my emotional state. A slow smile spread over her face. "I think the two of you are already very connected," she said. "But there's a…settling….in you, as if you've found where home is, that is very reassuring to feel."

"I do feel settled. I mean…I know we're going to face a long separation, but...I think we can handle it."

"I suspect it won't be as long as all that. Data will visit you on tour when he can; you must know that."

I smiled, "I do know that. I also know that I should get my things and head home. I'm not entirely sure having this conversation here was kosher. I'm on his privacy lock but I don't want to abuse his…what now?" She was giving me a look.

"Data suggested I talk with you when I caught him in the corridor," she revealed. "I might have commented on him kissing you."

"That was barely a kiss."

"But for Data…"

"I know," I said. "For him it was a public declaration. He calls these things…when I first got back, he started asking me to play etudes – they're practice pieces for musicians – each one is designed to help hone specific elements of technique. He calls things like going to concerts and minor public displays of affection relationship etudes. I think it's kind of a riff on your suggestion that we be more visible together, even before we admitted we were dating."

She nodded. "I think it's good for both of you to be comfortable with little displays of affection, and for people on the ship to see you together."

"I'm always convinced people will be staring at us, but no one seemed at all fazed by our relationship at home, and even this morning, no one stopped what they were doing to gawk. I just…I don't ever want to reflect poorly on him."

"You won't, if you continue to be open and honest about your worries, and your needs. You are young, as we've discussed, but in many ways you and Data are very evenly matched."

"And then there are the ways in which he'll always be eons ahead of me."

"Yes, but there are ways you're ahead of him, as well. It balances out."

We both stood and, impulsively, I hugged her. "Thanks for listening," I said.

"I'm happy to do so, Zoe. As a friend, as well as a counselor."

I grinned. "Okay."

She left, and I checked on Spot who had been hiding in the bedroom. Her water was fine. I gathered my belongings and the cake, left a note on Data's computer, and returned to Mom's quarters where I alternately read and dozed until it was time to head to the pool.

Ray had missed my party because he was on duty, but before we started swimming he presented me with a small wrapped box. "It isn't much," he said. "But I couldn't ignore my non-biological sister turning seventeen."

Inside was a pair of earrings – surfboards made of silver – and I laughed and hugged him. "They're awesome. Thank you."

"So, I heard things had changed between you and Commander Data," he said after I let him go. "Annette says you seem really happy."

I smiled. "Yeah. I really am." Then I had to ask, "Wait…'Annette said?' Are you into my friend?"

"Would you mind if I was?"

I shook my head. "Why would I? She's awesome; you're awesome. You're kind of perfect for each other. I'm not sure what's going on with her and Wesley, but… I guess that's between you and her."

"So, if I asked her out?"

"I'd say have an amazing time, and her favorite flowers are Orion zinnias."

"Good to know," he laughed. "In the pool, Sis. Fifty laps, please?"

"Slave driver," I grumbled good-naturedly. Half-way through my laps he joined me in the pool and we made it a race, but I don't think either of us paid attention to who won.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45092.82**

**(Saturday, 3 February 2368, 23:25 hours, ship's time)**

I finished the last bite of the crepe I'd ordered and smiled sweetly at my dining companion. "When you said, 'dance lessons,' I was expecting a holodeck program, not a jazz club on a starbase on a Saturday night. I ought to be really annoyed with you."

Data met my eyes with his own level expression. "But you are not angry, because even though you protest that you dislike being 'stared at,' you enjoy it when people notice us together."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Do your friends know what a conniver you can be, or is this a new thing, since you've turned _thirty_?" The anniversary of his activation day had been two days before, and while he didn't generally celebrate the day, or have any kind of reaction to the change in his chronological age, I was having fun twitting him about it, and he'd been gracious about letting me.

"My age has nothing to do with the fact that you have conceded my point." Was there a hint of smug exultation in that statement?

"Not entirely."

"Zoe…" his tone was as exasperated as he ever got, and I was fairly certain I was the only person who'd ever pushed him so close to the edge of even that much emotion.

"Data…" I mimicked his inflection, but then I reached across the table for his hand, first gripping his fingers, then twining mine with his. "I'll _concede_ that I enjoy being with you, and doing things you enjoy, and while there's an element of being stared at that I'm not in love with, it's something I'll eventually get used to, because I suspect people are always going to notice you."

"Did you not pay attention to the comments the people around us were making, Zoe?"

"I was trying not to listen."

"The general consensus among older patrons was that it was a nice thing to be around 'young love.'"

"They said that?"

"Yes."

"Do _you_ mind it? Being stared at?"

"I find I prefer being noticed because of the apparent connection between us rather than because I am 'Starfleet's android.'"

"Do we have time for one more dance before we have to be back on the ship? I know you promised my mother we'd be back aboard by midnight."

He called over a server and settled our tab. "We do," he said, "have time for one more dance."

"Am I allowed to kiss you while we're dancing, or is that too much PDA?"

He didn't answer, but midway through the dance – he wasn't counting for me that night – he bent his head to kiss me.

We finished the dance and walked back to the umbilical bridge that led from the starbase to the ship, hand in hand, passing other couples and small groups. Some knew me; most knew Data. Polite greetings were exchanged but little else, until a small form came barreling toward us yelling, "Zooooooooeeeeee! Zoe-Zoe-Zoeeeee!"

Data caught the child in firm but gentle hands. "Young man," he said. "Running down the corridors of the _Enterprise_ is generally not recommended."

The boy, an eight-year-old named Charlie who was wearing starship pajamas, looked up at Data and said, "Wow."

I couldn't hide my chuckle fast enough, but after a beat I touched Data on the shoulder, "This is Charlie Simmons. His parents are part of the Melona colony. Charlie, this is Lt. Commander Data, he's third in charge of the ship."

Letting go of the boy, Data adjusted his posture, "It is good to meet you, Charlie."

Charlie grinned up at him. "Good to meet you, too, sir. Zoe's my friend. Is she your friend, too?"

Data and I shared a look, and I shrugged at him. "Yes," he said to Charlie. "Zoe and I are friends."

"Does your mother know you've escaped again?" I asked the boy.

"She and Dad are on the starbase. Sierra's supposed to be watching me, but she fell asleep and I got bored."

"Mmhmm. I bet you did. How 'bout if Data and I take you back to quarters and he calls your parents?"

"He can do that?"

I glanced at Data over Charlie's head and mouthed a question. _Do you mind?_ He answered me with a slight shake of his head, and then directed his attention back to Charlie. "Yes," he said, "I can 'do that.'. Will you lead the way back to your quarters?"

"Okay."

Charlie turned around and started back the way he'd come, pausing to come back and grab my hand, tugging. We let him lead us around two curves of corridor and followed as he turned toward the interior of the ship at one of the junctions. "We're staying here."

The door opened just as we arrived and a girl about four years younger than me came out, "Charlie! There you are! Charlie, you're going to get me in so much trouble." She noticed Data and me. "Oh, hey, Zoe. If you're looking for Kim, she and Jason are on the starbase."

"Hey," I said. "Charlie already told us that."

"Sierra," Data said, stepping forward as Charlie slipped past us all, into the Simmons's quarters. "You may go home. Zoe and I will wait with the boy until his parents return."

She looked at him, and I saw her count his pips, but all she said was, "Yes, sir. Thank you."

After she left, I made sure Charlie was tucked back into bed, bringing him water but refusing to read a story, and Data contacted the Simmons apologizing for the abrupt ending to their evening. While we waited on their couch, he asked me how I knew the colonists.

"I only really know the Simmons. Gran has college kids come work on the farm sometimes for their externships and Kim was one of them. I was Charlie's age when we met, and she's stayed in touch with the family. I was there when she and Jason got married a few years after Charlie was born."

"I hope to meet your grandmother one day," he said.

"You will," I said. "And she'll love you."

Kim and Jason arrived not long after that, and after apologizing for Charlie's behavior, my old friend said, "I'm glad he ran into you."

Jason added, "Commander Data, I'm so sorry you were involved. Please don't let this reflect poorly on our project."

"I have some experience with children who enjoy testing limits," Data answered diplomatically. "Please think nothing of it, though you may wish to choose a different babysitter in the future."

"We had originally asked Zoe, but she said she had plans…" Kim admitted.

**(=A=)**

We left the Simmons around one in the morning, taking the turbo-lift back up to the officers' decks. The Bajoran ensign who'd come aboard a week or so before – I think her name was Ro or Laura, or some combination of the two - was in the lift with us, but she didn't say anything. In fact, her only acknowledgement of us at all was a curt nod, and she exited on a deck that I'm pretty certain was one below where she actually lived.

"Is she as prickly as the vibe she was giving off?" I asked once we were alone.

"Ensign Ro has a challenging personality but has offered some innovative suggestions to improve standard procedures," he said. "Once she has had more time to 'settle in,' I will be happy to introduce you. I believe she could use friends who are not officers."

"I'd like that," I said honestly. The 'lift stopped again on deck eight, where Data lived, and we got out, and walked to his quarters, where I immediately began collecting the belongings I'd left there when I'd first arrived. The messenger bag I'd used to carry my 'date' outfit and a few personal items was waiting on the table, but I'd never bothered to pack my cello into its gig bag.

"You are leaving?" Data asked. "You do not wish to continue our evening?"

"It's kind of late," I pointed out. "And I spent the night last night, and both nights last weekend. We've never discussed whether me spending weekend nights here was supposed to be a regular thing, or on a case-by-case basis."

"I have come to expect your presence here on weekends," he confessed. "If you are comfortable staying, I would like you to," he added, joining me near the table.

I turned and stepped into his space, reaching up to muss his hair and guide his face close enough to kiss. "I'm very comfortable here," I assured him. "Would you mind making tea while I change?"

"My pajama top is where you left it, on our bed," he told me.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45114.81**

**(Monday, 12 February 2368, 00:30 hours, ship's time)**

It was hours after our Saturday Session had ended but I was still playing my cello in his quarters. Instead of playing a duet _with_ Data, though, I was playing a solo piece _for_ him, while he recorded it – audio and video – to send to Hugo Rodriguez. Hugo was the cellist in my favorite chamber ensemble, the Tantalus Quartet, and had been my instructor at the Suzuki Institute in San Francisco the previous summer, and he'd agreed to evaluate my performance.

The piece I was playing was one of Bach's most famous, the Prelude to his first cello suite, and it was a required audition piece for The Martian School, as well as almost every other music conservatory in Federation space. I'd played it for Data before, with him picking apart my technique, but since then I'd matured as a person and a musician, and I'd also memorized the piece, so, I tended to play it…differently.

I finished playing and waited until Data had ended the recording before I moved, but it was he who spoke first. "Your interpretation of the Prelude has changed since you last played it for me."

"A _lot_ has changed since the last time I played it," I said. "For anyone, not just for you. The last time you heard me rehearsing it, _we'd_ never even kissed."

"Hm." The non-verbal noise usually meant that he'd been presented with new information but didn't yet have a proper verbal response. "I did not realize being part of a couple could affect so many things."

"You've been part of a couple before," I reminded him gently. "What's changed for you?"

I hadn't meant it as a particularly serious question, but Data, being Data, I was given a thoughtful, serious answer. "With you, while I am not always entirely certain I am 'getting everything right' there is a sense that even if I make mistakes, it will not cause our relationship to fail, but instead will help it grow. Where before I was…I believe you would say 'floundering,' in _this_ relationship, there is only connection and belonging."

I'd set my cello down and crossed the few feet separating us before he finished speaking. "We're both going to make mistakes," I said. "But I still think most of our issues are going to be less android vs. human than male vs. female and Starfleet vs. civilian. Besides," I added softly, "I told you: we fit."

"I concur." He set the recording device aside.

I slipped my arms around him for a hug, resting my head against his chest for a full minute. When I released him, when we released each other, I stretched up to meet his lips in a kiss, but something shifted and what normally would have been sweet and tender turned into something more.

I kissed him again, slower, deeper, tasting the faint cashew essence that was uniquely his, and I moved my hands back to his waist, sliding them under the bottom of his uniform jacket. He'd been wearing civilian clothes more during his off-duty hours, but his dog watch on the bridge had only ended a couple of hours before our recording session, so he was still in uniform. "Can you take this off?" I asked softly.

Wordlessly, he complied.

I tugged the hem of his black t-shirt from his trousers and insinuated my hands between the fabric and his skin. We'd officially been a couple for two months, and this was the fourth weekend I'd spend the night in his quarters, but touching him that way – being allowed, and even encouraged to do so – still felt like a gift, partly because he was so buttoned up so much of the time, and partly because he constantly surprised me with how responsive and tactile he could be. I was never sure what was choice and what was programming, but more and more, I also wasn't sure it mattered.

His hands were tangled in my hair, both of them, and he continued to kiss me, massaging my tongue with his, wiggling the stud I still wore there, then moving away to nuzzle my neck or nibble at my earlobe. My breath caught, and I let out tiny gasps whenever his tongue or teeth touched my skin.

I stopped stroking his skin to tug on his t-shirt. "Off."

"Zoe…?" His lips formed my name over the surface of my skin.

"I just want contact," I said. "I like touching you. I love your skin." I let go of him – and he of me – long enough for him to divest himself of the t-shirt as well. I caught his hands and guided them to my waist, under the blouse I was wearing. His fingers were cool against my skin. "I like it when you touch me too, you know."

The skimming touch of his fingers slid upward under my shirt, hovering just below my bra, hesitating, until somewhere inside of him a decision was made, and he was cupping my breasts over the fabric, his mouth returning to meet mine, but not before asking, "May I remove your blouse, Zoe?

"Yes…" I was teasing his nipples, feeling the darker gold harden into tiny nubs in response to my fingers. "Data…not…not here."

"No," he agreed. "Not here." By mutual decision, we relocated to the bedroom, to the bed he insisted upon referring to as _ours_ rather than merely his. I sat on the end of it and he knelt in front of me. We shared another slow, deep kiss while he gently unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off my shoulders but then he trailed kisses down my neck to the hollow of my throat, and then down the center of my chest, between my breasts.

"Ohhh, Data…" My hands were gliding over his chest, his sides, his shoulders, touching and exploring, finding the physical contact I'd been craving. Except for the places where there was scant hair – the line from his navel down – his skin was smooth, but it was also soft and pliable, belying his strength, and he, too, was responding with minute – barely detectable, even – changes to his breathing.

"Zoe," he said my name softly, like a benediction, and then he repeated it with the added word that always made me melt. "My Zoe."

I kissed his bare shoulder, then clasped my hands behind his neck. "You should know…I'm not…" I was going to say that I wasn't 'not ready' any more but hiding behind my usual flippant turns of phrase seemed unfair, and somehow wrong. I took a breath. "The morning of my birthday, I told you I wasn't ready. I am now, but we still don't have to rush, if you're not…"

I literally _saw_ him process my statement. Finally, he said, "I am."

We kissed.

He released the clasp on my bra.

A voice sounded over the comm system. "Senior staff, please report to the captain's ready room. Urgent"

"Seriously?!" I couldn't help my frustrated shout.

Data's face was impassive - too impassive, even for him - as he stood up. "I am sorry, Zoe. I must go."

"I know," I said. "It's the job."

"Will you remain here? Our alert status has not changed; it is conceivable that this will be a brief meeting."

"I'll stay," I said. "I might not be awake when you get back though."

"I will accept that risk." He had already retrieved the pieces of uniform we'd removed and put them back on. He came to kiss me one more time before he left. "This is not an away mission," he said; "merely a meeting, and I will tell you what I can when I return home."

"Go," I said. "The sooner you go, the sooner you get back."

He left, and I changed for bed, wearing the pajama top that had become mine rather than his over the last four weeks of sleepovers. Spot jumped onto the bed to curl up with me, and I scratched behind her ears. "Welcome to 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Sexually Frustrated,'" I said to her. "Here's hoping this isn't a continuing series."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45121.01**

**(Wednesday, 14 February 2368, 07:00 hours, local time)**

**Melona Colony**

"Zooooeeeeeeeeee!" If I'd been sleeping, the sound of an exuberant eight-year-old screaming my name would have woken me, and everyone else in the quadrant as well.

"I believe you are being paged," Data said from his position at the desk in the tent we'd been sharing for two days. Well, really it was more like a small yurt than an actual tent, but it had a canvas roof.

"You're enjoying this," I accused him. I jammed my feet into the purple combat boots I'd chosen as my main footwear for this little excursion, then stood and dropped a kiss on the top of _his_ head for a change. "In fact, I'm certain you finagled me onto this trip _just_ so you could watch me being tortured by the combination of early mornings and small children."

Three days earlier, an urgent staff meeting had killed an amorous moment between us. By the time Data had returned from said meeting, I had fallen asleep, just as I'd warned him I might. He'd let me sleep, then roused me with kisses and coffee telling me that he was leaving that evening to help plant the Melona Colony.

"How does that even work?" I had asked him. "I'm guessing it's absolutely nothing like that board game, 'Colonies of Catan?'"

"Ah, no," he'd said. "I could explain in detail; however, we have long agreed that you are more receptive to a 'hands-on' approach to learning."

"'Hands-on' was certainly the operative phrase last night," I'd responded in a flirtatious voice, but then, more seriously, I'd added, "I meant what I said. I'm ready when you are."

"I am aware," he'd said. "But we will have to wait a while longer, as it would be inappropriate to engage in sexual intimacy while on an away mission."

It had taken me a minute to parse what he was actually saying. "Did you just imply that I'm coming with you? Are you glitching? Me civilian; you Starfleet."

His face had gone blank at my use of the word 'glitching' but a fraction of a second later he realized I wasn't actually insulting him. "No, Zoe, I am operating within normal parameters. However, I am inviting you to join the away team. It is not an uncommon occurrence for students such as yourself to be included on missions that are purely educational or cultural in nature, and you already have a rapport with several of the colonists."

"Won't they be camping for the first couple weeks? Have you met me? I'm the girl who thinks 'roughing it' is a hotel that doesn't have in-room dining and a real bathtub."

"Perhaps, but you are also the young woman…" There had been a minor note of correction in his voice. "…who is familiar with farm life and has successfully navigated 'Rolling for Technology.'" He paused, then added, "Not only will this give you another opportunity to see me 'on the job,' you will also be able to count the experience as 'community service' on your college applications."

I'd sat back down on the bed. "You're not kidding. You're really bringing me with you?"

"Yes."

"So, you and Counselor Troi _were_ testing me when I was here while you were working." It hadn't been a question.

"We were evaluating how you handled linguistics challenges, and problem solving, yes."

"Did my mother approve this?" I knew she'd been working with the colonists as well, assisting with planning and prioritization of tasks.

"I would not be bringing it up with you, if she had not."

"Am I only being given this opportunity because I'm your girlfriend?" I had hesitated to ask that, but it was a valid question.

"It is true that our relationship has made you more visible to people like Commander Riker and Captain Picard," he had answered honestly. It is equally true that your relationship with the Simmons, and other members of the Melona group had some bearing."

"Okay, fine, I'll go, but only if I get to share a tent with you."

"Zoe, I do not think that would be…." He trailed off, reacting to the pointed look I was pinning him with. "If you wish," he'd finally acceded.

But that had been three days before. Once we actually arrived at the colony site, I'd been drafted to help with kid-wrangling, cooking, and to offer my opinion as a performer in my own right and as Zach Harris's daughter (and Irene Harris's granddaughter) about the proposed arts facility.

"Zooeeeee, come on! Mom made extra bacon rations this morning!" Charlie Simmons's voice came insistently through the entrance to the tent.

"Be there in a minute," I called out to him. I grabbed the messenger bag with my padd and the small harp I'd replicated to bring on this trip, twisted my hair into a messy bun, and moved to leave Data, and his own work, behind. I paused though, remembering the date, and drew a card out of my bag. It, too, had been replicated for this trip. Resting my hands on Data's shoulders, I leaned around him for a brief kiss. "This is for you," I said, putting the card in front of him.

I started to move away, but he caught my wrist, "Wait."

"Data?"

"I have not forgotten that it is Valentine's Day," he said. "I had thought to bring your gift with us but decided it would be best left until we are back aboard the _Enterprise_. However, I would not let the day go unmarked." He pulled something from his own collection of things – admittedly, a much smaller collection than mine – "This is for you," he said handing me a silver and blue item about the size of a walnut.

I opened the metallic wrapping to find a single chocolate with a piece of translucent paper wrapped around it. Closer inspection of the inner paper revealed that it was printed with text, similar to a fortune cookie. I read the note, "'If you gave me all the kisses in the world, they would still be too few.' Data, why do I get the feeling you sorted through a box of these to choose an appropriate quote?"

I popped the chocolate – it turned out to be a truffle wrapped around a hazel nut – into my mouth while he answered, "Would you expect anything less?"

I laughed, "No. No, I wouldn't."

He handed me a small bag, "You would not be the Zoe I know if you could not mark this day for others as well. These are to share."

I looked, and then laughed more. "Message hearts? Really?"

"I suggest you ensure that your young friend eats his breakfast before you offer him any."

"Oh, no worries on that count. See you at campfire, if not at lunch?" The colonists had instituted an evening campfire to reconnect after their days of construction.

"Of course."

Smiling, I ducked out of the tent. "Sorry to keep you waiting, kidlet."

"Were you and Commander Data kissing?" Charlie demanded.

"We might have been."

"That's gross. Kissing is gross. Girls are gross." He was such a typical eight-year-old. Girls had cooties, and fart noises were the best thing ever, in his world.

I arched a brow at him. "Oh, really? I'm a girl…does that make me gross, too?"

"You're not a girl. You're _Zoe_."

"Mmm. We'll have to revisit this later. I heard something about bacon…?"

"BACON!" He ran off to the communal kitchen. I walked after him until I was sure Data wouldn't be able to see me, and then I took off running, too.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45123.69**

**(Thursday, 15 February 2368, 06:30 hours, local time)**

**Melona Colony**

Valentine's Day was massacred shortly after 18:00 hours, by a giant space-going snowflake.

Data and Commander Riker saved all our lives by ushering us into a series of nearby caves as quickly as possible, but I overheard them after they'd taken a head-count, and I knew that Will's friend Carmen and one of the older men had been killed.

I watched the two of them and Doctor Crusher try to keep everyone calm, but I could tell that the doctor and Riker were as worried as everyone else there. Data was calm, of course, standing guard over us all, ready to face down whatever might breech the entrance of our temporary sanctuary, even though said entrance had been sealed. I never wanted to run to him more. I knew I absolutely couldn't.

As people around me – the older men first – began to react to the elevated CO2 levels, becoming faint and lethargic, I found a piece of cave wall to sit against, crossed my legs lotus-style, and tried to regulate my breathing. Charlie and a couple of the other kids moved away from their fading parents and came to sit with me.

I still had my messenger bag – I'd been about to stow it in our tent before campfire when the attack had come. We'd been told to be calm, and as still as possible, but keeping kids from being squirmy is pretty hard when you're also not supposed to talk.

I reached into my bag, found the message hearts Data had given me that morning, and pulled them out. I gave one to each kid, and then I pulled out my padd as well and turned it to a text-display mode.

"We're going to play a game," I typed. "Be as still and quiet as you can, and whoever can go the longest without moving or talking gets another heart. Okay?"

Three small heads nodded.

I typed, "Go," and set a timer.

Eventually, the only kid still awake was Charlie, so I loaded a game on the padd – just Hangman – and we played that until he, too, began to nod off.

I must have fallen asleep, as well, because the next thing I knew people were blasting through the cave entrance from outside, early morning light was shining into the cave, and Data was pulling me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said. I was a little tired, a little slow, but nothing hurt, and I knew my sleep had been just sleep, not a loss of consciousness. "I'm fine," I repeated. I bent down to retrieve my padd, sliding it back into my bag. My bracelet caught on one of the closures and for a panicked moment I thought the strings had broken, but then I realized they had only pulled loose.

Data looked me over from top to toe, as if he needed to reassure himself that I was whole and alive, and then he said, "Doctor Crusher and I are prioritizing beam-up. I am afraid you will be in the last group, as you are one of the least affected by the overload of carbon dioxide."

"Can I do anything, in the meanwhile?"

"Continue to help with the children, if you do not mind. They seem to trust you." He took a beat before adding, "Your actions last night kept them from panicking. If I could feel pride, I believe I would be proud of you."

I grinned, "Yeah, I bet you say that to all the women who share your bed," but the truth was, his words meant a lot. He turned away, and we followed him out of the cave to what was left of the once-beautiful planet.

I must have been more altered than I knew because the next few minutes were a blur. I remember Charlie yelling that he had to pee, and me running after him, to make him wait – Kim had lost consciousness and been in the first group to go back to the ship. I remember stumbling on ash and rock, and a familiar gold hand reaching for mine.

I remember wondering when Data had changed to an all-black shirt.

I remember feeling that something was wrong, trying to pull my hand back, and my bracelet snapping.

"Data! Help!" I screamed it, or thought I did, but it might have been just inside my head, and then I was caught in a transporter beam, one that took longer than the transport _down_ to the planet had been a few days earlier.

When the beam released me, I wasn't in the transporter room on the _Enterprise_ , but on a single-person pad in what looked like a storage room, chest to chest with someone wearing body armor.

Gold hands in heavy non-Starfleet black sleeves reached for my face and forced my gaze upward. Malevolent yellow eyes met mine, and a too-familiar voice smarmed at me, "Hello, Pigeon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers about a month of time and refers to the episodes "Ensign Ro" and "Silicon Avatar."  
> Data and Zoe first talk about Tasha in Crush, chapter 47 ("Legacies"). Data speaks with Zoe's father in chapter 5 of For Auld Lang Syne ("Song for a Winter's Night, part IV"), and the entire conversation is revealed in chapter 1 of Intentions. "Rolling for Technology" is something my friends Sage and Todd Tyrtle created several years ago when they and their teenaged son were snowed into their Toronto apartment. Using a standard 6-sided die, they'd roll to see what tech they played with. A six would give them smart phones, Wi-Fi, streaming everything, etc. A 4 would drop them down to the 1970s: VCR tapes, live television, vinyl albums, books, and board games. Arthur Conan Doyle was a contemporary and friend of Harry Houdini, and a fan of the occult. He did actually participate in séances.  
> Zoe's pre-screening piece is the Prelude from J.S. Bach's first cello suite (Suite No. 1 in G major, BWV 1007). A version of it performed by Ophélie Gaillard has been added to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube Playlist, linked in my profile. This is one of the most popular cello pieces ever and is required for almost all conservatory auditions. The candy Data gives to Zoe is based on a Perugina chocolate called Baci, which really does come with 'love notes' inside. (Ferraro Rocher is a cheap rip-off of Baci.) They're typically written in four languages, and it's fun to see the different translations.


End file.
